When the Scallops Cry
by barondebadassiere1
Summary: When Spongebob Squarepants starts to discover the dark secrets of Bikini Bottom, his perfect, peaceful FUN life is shattered and a totally serious battle against destiny and the darkness of one's own heart begins. Essentially the story of Higurashi in the world of Spongebob. Contains warnings. I don't own Spongebob, Higurashi or anything else referenced in the story.
1. Fall - Fantasy Mythology

Like I said, it's a tongue-in-cheek version of the Higurashi plot in the world of Spongebob. It wasn't my idea in the first place, but once someone gave me it, it couldn't be resisted. Due to the nature of the world of Spongebob, the plot isn't exactly identical. The second arc, for example, is completely different. As a whole, though, it's pretty similar, but not as amazing.

General warnings: Contains strong violence, character death (you don't say), some crazy OOC-ness, mild language, mental illnesses and politics. Chapter-specific warnings will be mentioned in the chapters themselves, because it's easier. Chapter-specific warnings for this chapter: In addition to some of the above, there's also some reference to rape and bad humour.

That's enough boring introductions. Enjoy, if you are so inclined.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Fall Arc

Part One – Fantasy Mythology

* * *

Day breaks and the world rises. It's always the same, every day the same. The golden sun illuminates the earth with a warm glow, like a bath of gold. Oops, I said gold twice. All the strange, strange creatures awaken. I open my eye to the morning chorus outside. When the scallops cry, I know it's time to rise. Looking back, I wonder now if those crying scallops were trying to say something. A premonition. A warning of everything that was about to happen here. A warning, a prayer and a blessing are given for my sake, for yours, for everyone's, when the scallops cry.

* * *

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad!" called Spongebob, waving to his parents as they drove away. He barely heard their reply, caught as it was in the wind. It was nice to have been to visit them, considering he hadn't seen them for almost a year. Ever since he had moved away to Bikini Bottom, he'd barely spoken to them. He had kind of made the assumption that they didn't really want to see him after the trouble he'd caused living with them. He'd been over the moon when they invited him round to stay for a week. He'd had a good time, playing around and not really getting anything done, but it was good to be back. He took a deep breath of the sweet night air. He'd missed his pineapple, he'd missed his friends, he'd missed work; even if it was only for a week, he had been longing to come back.

"I hope Squidward remembered to feed Gary while I was gone," he mused as he struggled to his front door, dragging his bag behind him. It wasn't that he doubted Squidward's helpfulness, but it was easy to be paranoid about his beloved snail.

He reached the front door and set the bag down, rummaging in his improbably large pockets for the key. That was when he noticed something was strange. The door was ajar. Could he have been burgled?

He mentally slapped himself.

"Of course not, silly. How could something like a burglary, which I've only ever heard about in the news, possibly exist so close to me?" He chuckled. Then he heard a creak from within. He immediately serioused. There was someone in there _right now_. Flattening his body as only a sponge could, he slipped through the crack in the door. Someone was silhouetted against the window. There wasn't much he could make out, only that they were round. He could hear whispers. So there was more than one of them, was there? He knew only one way of dealing with this. He wasn't as skilled as Sandy, but against common burglars, his level of karate should suffice.

He tiptoed towards the intruder, taking care to avoid the light patches and the creaking floorboards. He stopped less than a metre away from the round one by the window, completely undetected. He took a second to steel himself and strike a cool pose, then struck.

"HYYOOAAAAHHHH! HIYAAAH! HIYAAAAAAAAH! TAKE THAT! AND THAT! AND THIS! AND THAT AGAIN! AND HERE'S SOMETHING NEW!"

Spongebob noticed that his opponent had a very hard skull.

"Spongebob! Get off of me!" cried a familiar, strongly-accented female voice.

"Huh?" he asked.

The lights flicked on.

"Happy birthday!" shouted Patrick happily, waving his arms in the air.

"Patrick, this isn't a birthday party," Squidward frowned.

"It's not?" the chubby starfish asked, looking very confused.

"It was supposed to be a 'Welcome Home' party, until _someone _tried to kill me!" shouted Sandy, standing up and brushing herself off.

Spongebob looked embarrassed.

"Sorry about that, Sandy… I thought you were a burglar!"

The genius squirrel shook her head wearily.

"Honestly, you nearly broke my helmet! What would we have done then?"

Patrick held out a pickle jar.

"Patrick, that doesn't have any air in it," Sandy told him dryly.

Patrick obligingly opened it and poured the pickles all over Spongebob's floor.

"Forget it, Patrick," droned Squidward as Gary began to munch on the pickles.

"It's great to be back!" cried Spongebob joyfully, pulling his friends into a hug. Squidward cringed and wriggled from his hardly iron grip. Sandy tolerated the affection and Patrick responded with a bone-crushing glomp. When Spongebob was released and could breathe normally again, he noticed for the first time the huge pink banner that read 'WELL COME HOM'.

"Hey, is this a party?!" he gasped excitedly.

"Well, yeah," Sandy confirmed.

"This is a party?!" gasped Patrick just as excitedly.

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Spongebob squealed, blushing slightly.

"I agree. You've only been gone a week and I have to go to a 'Welcome Home' party? Why didn't we have a 'So Long Spongebob' party?" moaned Squidward. He began to chuckle. "Heh. 'So Long Spongebob' party. That's a good one. Hah-hah-hah."

Sandy scowled at his nasally laughter.

"All the same, because we're all _good friends_, we do _friendly _things for each other, right, Squidward?!" she growled, elbowing the oddly-named octopus in the lack of ribs.

"Ow! Hah, yes, of course… good friends!" he smiled nervously.

"Hey, Spongebob, you want a glass of water?" asked Patrick, trying to be the focus of his best friend's attention once again.

"Because you totally need a glass," Squidward said.

"I'd love some, Patrick!" Spongebob responded, somehow not hearing his nominal friend's comment.

Patrick poured three glasses and handed them out. Squidward got his own and settled down with the others.

"Hey Spongebob, you want to go jellyfishing tomorrow?" asked Patrick excitedly.

"I can't, Patrick, I have to go to work tomorrow. Mr. Krabs will kill me if I miss even one minute more. Maybe another time?"

Patrick pouted.

"OK."

"Speaking of which, where'd you get that net o' yours, Spongebob?" asked Sandy. "It's a pretty good one, right?"

"Are we really talking about jellyfishing? Can I go home now?"

"Shut up, Squidward," Sandy shot at him. "Continue, Spongebob."

"Ol' Reliable isn't just good; it's probably the best jellyfish net in the world!" Spongebob exclaimed as if there had been no break. "It glides through the air, it can hold any jellyfish, no matter how strong, it can fit up to 20 at once, it can be thrown with perfect accuracy, it's heavy enough to hold them down after you've thrown it at them… it's perfect!" He beamed while he paused for breath. "But the best part is that it was a present from my best friend in the whole world!"

Patrick blushed modestly.

"Wait, how did you afford that? I thought you didn't even have any money!" asked Squidward, confused and caring for the first time.

"I made it myself!" the starfish beamed. "I'm actually pretty handy with my hands, you know!"

Squidward and Sandy raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

"It was the very first time I got a birthday present from someone who wasn't one of my parents! That made it extra special!" Spongebob piped up.

Sandy made a mental note to remember to get Spongebob a present this year. She then made a mental note to find out and remember Spongebob's birthday. Squidward made a mental note not to use the aforementioned net to unblock his toilet anymore.

"You two are really good friends, huh?" smiled Sandy, trying to clear the awkward atmosphere.

"You bet!" bellowed Patrick, puffing out his chest. "I'm Spongebob's best friend in the world!"

"Hey Patrick, remember that time we were a mommy and a daddy?" Spongebob asked.

Squidward and Sandy spat their water out all over the floor. Patrick, thinking that it was a game, took a gulp and spat it out all over Squidward.

"Do I ever!" he cried. "That was so much fun!"

"Wait a second!" yelled Sandy. "What the heck are you guys talking about?!"

"This one time, me and Patrick found a baby scallop. He was all alone and couldn't fly, so we took him in and looked after him! I was the mom and Patrick was the dad. I seem to recall that you weren't a very responsible father," Spongebob scowled accusingly at Patrick at this last bit.

"What are you talking about?! I was working hard at work every day! I had every right to sit down and watch a guy get hit on the head with coconuts for a little while!"

"All you did at 'work' was sit in your house watching the guy get hit on the head with coconuts!"

"Did the guy even have any brain cells anymore?" asked Squidward, slightly confused.

"Was he still alive?" asked Sandy, also confused.

"Is it possible to still be alive without any brain cells?" asked Squidward, even more confused. "Oh, wait. Patrick's alive."

"Anyway, Junior eventually learned to fly and left home. We haven't seen him since, but it's only been about five months. He hit Patrick with a coconut when he left."

"I raised him well," smirked Patrick. Sandy almost wondered why Patrick was proud that his 'son' had assaulted him, but then remembered it was Patrick Star she was talking to.

"Patrick never had any brain cells anyway," reasoned Squidward.

"I beg to agree," said Patrick, putting on his clever voice. Nobody bothered to challenge his bizarre and difficult to interpret statement.

"Can I go to bed now?" asked Squidward.

"I suppose it is getting pretty late… maybe we should be heading home now," said Sandy apologetically.

"Sure! I'll see you guys in the morning," Spongebob smiled.

"Do I have to go?" whined Patrick.

"Go on, Patrick. I have to sleep or I'll be tired at work! That would be really bad," the ever-cheerful sponge laughed.

Patrick begrudgingly stood and moped out of the door.

"Bye, Spongebob!"

"See ya tomorrow, Spongebob!"

…

…

…

"Ow! Er, yeah, see you at work, I guess."

"OK! Sleep well, guys!" Spongebob waved them away. He closed the door and sighed happily.

"We'd better be getting to bed, then, eh, Gary?" he asked.

Gary looked up from the pickles he was still slowly munching on.

"As soon as you've finished those."

* * *

Spongebob was awoken, not by his usual foghorn alarm clock, but by the loud crying of the early morning scallops.

"Well, they sure are noisy today!" he proclaimed.

He flung open the curtains to be blinded by the bright morning sun. He pulled on his pants and shirt, brushed his eyes and dashed from the house. He reached the Krusty Krab to find the door locked. He stood still, attentively waiting for his beloved boss to let him into his beloved place of work so that he could do his beloved job in his beloved kitchen with his beloved grill and spatula and Krabby Patties.

"Spongebob! You're awfully early! Eager to be back at work, eh lad?" barked Mr. Krabs good-naturedly.

Spongebob grinned, but stopped when he saw the small group of teenagers behind his boss.

"Er, Mr. Krabs? Who are those guys?"

Krabs turned.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, you guys can go away now. Got me real fry cook back!"

The teens moaned and slumped away. Mr. Krabs unlocked the door and the sponge burst in, hugging every table. He hurried into the kitchen to hug the grill, but stopped when he saw the state of his beloved kitchen and beloved grill and beloved spatula and beloved patties.

"Those… those monsters!" he cried in horror as he counted the pieces of gum stuck to the grill, the number of bends and scratches in his spatula, the number of patties strewn carelessly across the floor, the number of patches of spit adorning the walls and floorboards. Tears leaked from his eyes. He scrubbed them away and, with a steely resolve, began to clean.

* * *

"Spongebob, what the barnacles are you doing?! Get cooking! Time is money!" Mr. Krabs barked through the hatch between the kitchen and the restaurant.

"Sorry, Mr. Krabs! I just finished cleaning up!" Spongebob called, surveying his handiwork. Finally, the filth of those hellspawn was gone.

"Well, clean up your act, boy! We've got hungry customers coming in!"

Squidward blanched at his boss's poor joke.

Quickly, Spongebob began to cook. He flung patties onto the grill, he juggled the vegetables and tomatoes, he slid out the buns to catch them, he danced on the sauce dispensers. A master of an art at work is a joy to watch, as Squidward frequently said as he forced his clarinet performances on others.

"Morning, Nat!" he smiled as the fish was served.

"Hey, Spongebob! Good to have you back! Those teenagers can't cook for tartar sauce," he laughed.

Spongebob smirked proudly.

"Hey, Tom! How you doing?"

"Oh, hi Spongebob! I'm pretty good, you? How was your break?"

"Oh, it was great, thanks!"

"Where were you?"

"I was visiting my parents in Samoa!"

"Oh, it's nice there, isn't it? I had a friend once who went there for his honeymoon."

"Oh, it's gorgeous! I even got to"

"Spongebob, stop chatting and get back to work! You've got more orders to fill!" Squidward complained.

Spongebob grinned apologetically at Tom and ducked back inside.

Suddenly, the front doors burst open.

"Rev up those fryers, cause I sure am hungry for one Krabby Patty!" announced the newcomer in a booming voice. A large, burly lobster Spongebob had never seen before strode in.

"Hi, I've not seen you around before! My name's Spongebob!" he smiled.

"Hey, Spongebob, I'm Larry!" the lobster grinned, extending an enormous claw. Spongebob carefully shook it. Mr. Krabs scuttled over and extended a claw. They shook and Squidward smirked as Mr. Krabs' was dwarfed in Larry's.

"So, what brings you to Bikini Bottom?" Krabs asked, forcing a smile.

"I've been on holiday here a couple of times and loved it! I also started dating Sadie here on my last visit," he said, gesturing behind him.

For the first time, Spongebob noticed that Larry was not alone.

"Hey, Sadie! You're with Larry?"

Sadie smiled.

"Yes, we've been dating for a few months now."

Spongebob beamed.

"That's good! You deserve a good relationship, after all."

"Hmm," she smiled. "Hopefully, this time, my partner will keep his legs."

Spongebob suddenly felt very cold.

"W-What did you say?" he stuttered.

Larry lowered his voice.

"Sadie, that's, uh… not really something to joke about, surely?"

She smiled weakly.

"Sorry, it's… just a defensive mechanism, I suppose. My way of coping."

Larry patted her back and ushered her over to a table.

"So yeah, two Krabby Patties please," he called over his shoulder.

Spongebob simply stared.

"Spongebob! Hurry up and fill his order!"

Spongebob was finding thinking very difficult all of a sudden. What on earth had he just heard?!

"Spongebob! Look out!"

"Too late!" a deep voice cried out of nowhere. An evil cackle began, shaking Spongebob out of his trance. He looked frantically around for the source of the malevolent humour.

"Down here, you ignoramus!" yelled Plankton as he dashed out of the kitchen, carrying a Krabby Patty over his head.

"Plankton!" bellowed Krabs. "How the barnacles did you get in here?!"

"All too easy, Krabs!" laughed the microscopic mastermind. "You let me in yourself! It's not hard to hide in that idiotic sponge's pockets!"

Spongebob gasped.

"I am not an idiot!"

Plankton weaved through the legs of the many customers. Unfortunately for him, he dashed under Sadie's skirt and, horrified, she booted him across the room. He clung onto the patty and again ran towards the door. Sandy, who had been sat near the door, pulled a laser from her suit and burned a line around the door. This was a sizeable ravine for Plankton, who snarled and span around, heading for a window.

"Cannonball!"

Patrick landed with a crash just in front of Plankton. He made a grab for him, but the little bastard leapt out of reach just in time. Squidward hurled his hat like a javelin, encasing Plankton in midair and falling to the floor. Larry stamped his foot down on the entrance, ensnaring the dastardly microbe.

"Drat! I was so close that time!" he yelled as Krabs carried him by the antennae to the door.

"You'll never steal the formula from us, Plankton!" Spongebob cried proudly. "Together, we're all an unstoppable team!"

Plankton scoffed.

"If you think you'll always be able to rely on the power of friendship, you've got another thing coming!" he cried. "You can't always count on your pathetic friends! I don't need to!"

"I beg to agree!" bellowed Patrick.

"I'm gonna assume that Patrick meant to say 'differ' and agree with him!" grinned Sandy. "You've got nothing if you can't trust in your friends!"

"Yeah, have you noticed you never have any friends, and you always lose, Plankton?" Krabs mocked him. "The closest you've ever come to winning was when you had your family to help you!"

Plankton simply scowled.

"I don't need friendship. I can handle things by myself."

"Sure you can," laughed Krabs as he hurled his enemy back to the Chum Bucket, where he crashed through the doors and smacked into a wall.

"Ouch."

"I see you won," observed Karen, his computer wife.

"Don't patronise me."

* * *

"Patrick, what time do you call this?" asked Spongebob groggily.

"4 am!" Patrick cried excitedly. "Come on, let's go! Pleeease?"

"Gruurgh… What are we doing?"

"We're going treasure hunting!"

"What? Where? What treasure?"

"You'll see!" Patrick bounded off ahead. Spongebob wearily trudged after him. The sun wasn't even up and the early morning scallops were silent. Why did Patrick feel the need to go 'treasure hunting' at this hour? He noticed Patrick had stopped. Had they arrived? Then he saw where they were.

"You're seriously asking me to go 'treasure hunting' at the dump?!"

"Yeah!" Patrick agreed. "Trust me, there's loads of great stuff in there! You wouldn't believe the kind of stuff people throw away! I don't why they do it! You know, I made Ol' Reliable out of stuff I found here."

At the mention of the beloved net, Spongebob relented.

"Fine, let's go."

"Yay!"

Patrick led him round the tall, barbed-wire fence.

"Where are we going? The entrance is right there."

Patrick smiled guiltily.

"Yeah, but there's a pretty scary guard worm near the entrance. I know a secret way in near the back that the worm never goes near, so we'll be OK going this way."

After another 20 minutes of walking, they stopped. Patrick pointed to a gap in the fence a couple of metres up.

"There! That's how we get in. Usually I bring a ladder, but today we can help each other! You give me a leg up and then I'll pull you from the gap, OK?"

Spongebob made a step with his hands and, with great effort and much strain, hoisted his large friend up into the hole. He then reached his hands up for Patrick to grab and pull. Once they were both inside, Patrick pulled two burlap sacks from within his trunks and handed one to Spongebob.

"Here! You can use this for things you find!"

Spongebob decided he would just carry them, if he found anything at all.

"Alright! Let's split up and look for treasure!" cried Patrick with glee.

"Wait a second, Patrick," said Spongebob, frowning slightly.

"There's something that's been bothering me since yesterday. Er… you know Sadie? Has she, uh… ever had a partner? Before that Larry guy, I mean?"

Patrick cocked his head slightly.

"Hmmm… I think she used to be married to someone called Fred. Squidward mentioned him once."

Spongebob gulped.

"Did something… happen to him? Like an accident, or…"

"I don't know."

Spongebob was shaken slightly by Patrick's unusually curt response.

His friend turned round and smiled.

"I'm pretty new to things in Bikini Bottom, so I don't really know much about it."

Spongebob was even more surprised.

"Huh? Really?"

Patrick turned away.

"Yeah… I've not been a Bikini Bottomite for very long at all."

Something seemed a little off to Spongebob, but he let it slide.

"Anyway, let's go find some treasure! I'll go this way and you go some other way!"

Patrick hurried off down a path through the mountains of junk.

Spongebob smiled.

"That Patrick… he never makes any sense."

A memory flashed, unbidden, in his mind.

"_So, how long have you been living here?"_

"_All my life!"_

"_Really?"_

"_Yup! Born under this rock, die under this rock, all the time in between under this rock! That's my motto!"_

"_What's a motto?"_

"_Nothing! What's a motto with you?!"_

Spongebob tried to ignore the lingering doubts in his mind and headed off to look for 'treasure'.

After 10 minutes spent scrabbling uselessly through heaps of sewing machines and bread bins, he stumbled across a pile of old newspapers.

"Hmm? I wonder if anything interesting's happened in the past few years?" he wondered, trying to hide his true curiosity from both himself and the morning chorus that had started up with the break of day.

Right at the bottom of the pile, he found what he was looking for. It was front-page news.

_Brutal Butchery in Bikini Bottom_

"Here it is…" he mused.

His eyes scanned the page.

"Fred Rechid, 36, leader of the few supporters of the 'Percy Plan', was found dead in his home last night, his legs having been hacked off with some kind of large, sharp instrument…! Police believe he bled to death… children similarly butchered… wife raped and beaten…!"

_Sadie_…

"The end of the Percy Plan?... Home of another supporter, Squidward Tentacles, torched!... Bikini Bottom gripped with terror and rage… One of the culprits remains at large!"

Spongebob sat in silence, staring at the horrific page in front of him. The scallops continued their synchronised cries as the sun rolled overhead, illuminating the whole of the dystopian city with a golden bath of light.

He gulped.

He gulped again.

"So… all of this… it really happened, didn't it?" he mumbled through dry lips.

His mind flashed through all of his happy images of his days in Bikini Bottom.

_What was this town hiding_?

The answer was lost in the cries of the scallops.

Silently, a figure approached from behind, smiling serenely, loosely holding a colossal machete that dragged on the ground behind them.

_What demons were hidden, just under the surface, waiting to rear their heads_?

The answer was lost in the cries of the scallops.

_Looking back, I wonder now if those crying scallops were trying to say something. A premonition_._ A warning of everything that was about to happen here_.

Day broke and the world rose.

* * *

Can you believe… in what you can see before you?

Can you believe… in the life you've led?

Can you believe… in yourself?

Can you believe… in me?

When the Scallops Cry, Fall Arc

Part Two: Blood Teller

Can you believe?

* * *

So yeah. First chapter complete. Reviews of all kinds are welcome. Next chapter coming soon-ish. Stupid spell check, 'ish' is a word. Everybody knows that.


	2. Fall - Blood Teller

Hooray, it's the second chapter. Specific warnings: Another reference to rape. Maybe that should have been one of the main warnings, it pops up quite often. I still own nothing, except for raging pants.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Fall Arc

Part Two – Blood Teller

* * *

_Brutal Butchery in Bikini Bottom_

"Here it is…" he mused.

His eyes scanned the page.

"Fred Rechid, 36, leader of the few supporters of the 'Percy Plan', was found dead in his home last night, his legs having been hacked off with some kind of large, sharp instrument…! Police believe he bled to death… children similarly butchered… wife raped and beaten…!"

_Sadie_…

"The end of the Percy Plan?... Home of another supporter, Squidward Tentacles, torched!... Bikini Bottom gripped with terror and rage… One of the culprits remains at large!"

Spongebob sat in silence, staring at the horrific page in front of him. The scallops continued their synchronised cries as the sun rolled overhead, illuminating the whole of the dystopian city with a golden bath of light.

He gulped.

He gulped again.

"So… all of this… it really happened, didn't it?" he mumbled through dry lips.

His mind flashed through all of his happy images of his days in Bikini Bottom.

_What was this town hiding_?

The answer was lost in the cries of the scallops.

Silently, a figure approached from behind, smiling serenely, loosely holding a colossal machete that dragged on the ground behind them.

_What demons were hidden, just under the surface, waiting to rear their heads_?

There was a creak from behind him, almost lost in the cries of the scallops. He turned slowly. Squinting against the glare of the morning sun behind the figure, it was hard to make out more than the huge blade in their hands.

He screamed.

Spongebob toppled to the ground, smacking his head on a broken bathtub. Patrick winced.

"Sorry, Spongebob! I didn't mean to scare you!"

Spongebob looked up, groaning and clutching his head.

"Patrick, what are you doing? What's with the machete?"

Patrick held the weapon up, smiling, and Spongebob flinched.

"Well, I found this really cool Jeffrey Jellyfish toy around here somewhere, but he was buried underneath a pile of timber. I thought I could break through it with this."

Spongebob grinned with relief.

"Man, you freaked me out with that thing. Where'd you find it?"

Patrick shrugged.

"It was just lying around a few hundred metres away."

Spongebob looked closely at the machete. It must have been around four feet long and a foot wide. He was certain he couldn't have carried it, let alone swung it around with ease as Patrick was doing.

Suddenly, a vicious bark, followed by more, started up.

Patrick froze in horror.

"It's the guard worm!"

Spongebob gulped. His throat was getting a bit dry from all this gulping.

"I-It can't be that bad, right?"

Patrick grabbed him.

"Spongebob, that thing's a monster! We gotta get outta here!"

Patrick seized Spongebob by the hand and dragged him away, back towards the fence, tossing the machete away behind him.

Spongebob had never seen Patrick sprint as fast as he was now. Just how scary was this worm? The two bolted, one just behind the other, towards their escape. The raging pants and barks were getting increasingly close. Patrick reached the fence just before Spongebob and began scrabbling uselessly at the chain links. Spongebob once more made a step with his hands and with effort hoisted Patrick up. He waited for Patrick's hands to seize his, but they did not come. Patrick had scrambled through the hole and run. Spongebob could see him dashing away without looking back. Had he just abandoned his best friend to the mercy of this ferocious creature?! Spongebob turned to see the snarling worm appear from around a corner. Looking around frantically, he spotted a heap of rubbish, precariously balanced, that could get him up to the gap, providing it didn't collapse beneath him. He clambered up onto the side of a sink and began climbing. The worm was almost on top of him and the gap was still almost a metre out of reach. Suddenly a searing pain shot up Spongebob's leg. He cried in pain and glanced down. The worm had somehow propelled itself into the air and sunk its teeth into his ankle. It had fallen back down and now appeared to be readying itself for another leap. Damn it! Why had Patrick abandoned him in this mess?! He gritted his teeth and kept climbing. The worm crashed headlong into the broom holding the pile up. Just as his footing collapsed beneath him, Spongebob lunged for the gap in the fence. He narrowly succeeded in clinging to the torn edges of the wire, nearly shredding his fingers. Ignoring the pain, he heaved himself up and through the hole, falling with another jolt of pain to the ground on the other side. He stood, his weight on his good leg, and turned. For the first time, he got a good look at the guard worm as it repeatedly hurled itself against the fence with fury. It was adorned with what looked like bites out of its flesh and Spongebob realised with horror that they were the result of its own savagery; with nothing else to attack, it had turned on itself. The ferocity of the creature was astounding. He looked into its eyes, which stared back at him with a burning lust for his blood, and saw that this creature wasn't just angry. It was _insane_. Pure, uncontrolled madness. He turned on his heel and limped hurriedly away.

* * *

"Of course Patrick didn't mean any harm!" laughed Spongebob to himself as he mopped up his bleeding leg. "You saw how scared he was of that thing; heck, you saw that thing yourself! Who wouldn't be terrified? Yeah, he was just scared, that's all. He'll probably come round in a minute to apologise, I'll forgive him and it'll all be forgotten!" He chuckled nervously and finished tightening the bandage. He pulled up his sock to cover it from sight. No point worrying anyone, right? He stood and walked shakily towards his kitchen.

As he finished the glass of milk, his doorbell rang. He strode over to it, wincing as he went, and opened it.

"Hey, Spongebob!" Sandy greeted him cheerily.

"Hi, Sandy! Hi, Patrick!" Spongebob warmly replied.

"Sorry about running off earlier, Spongebob," said Patrick guiltily. "I was just really scared. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Spongebob carefully moved his right leg behind his left.

"No, I got out fine, just after you did," he lied. He similarly made sure his damaged fingers were out of sight.

Patrick wiped his forehead.

"Thank Neptune for that!"

"Y'see, that's why you shouldn't be going and playing in the dump!" Sandy scolded them light-heartedly.

"Patrick made me," Spongebob said, pointing at the guilty starfish, who gaped in horror.

"Me?!"

"Getting back on topic, there's something we wanted to ask you, Spongebob," Sandy told him. "You know how Bikini Bottom has an annual carnival thing in worship of the Flying Dutchman?"

"Hmm… yeah, it's called Dutchnight or something, right?"

"Yeah. Well, it's tomorrow, and we wanted to invite you to come with us!"

"Please?" begged Patrick.

"Patrick, you don't need to beg. Of course I'll come!" Spongebob laughed. "Is Squidward coming too?"

Sandy scratched her helmet awkwardly.

"Well, I don't think he likes the crowds or the noise, so probably not. Mr. Krabs, Mrs. Puff and loads of our other friends are coming though!"

Spongebob smiled.

"Well, it sounds like it'll be fun! See you tomorrow!" He waved as they left.

* * *

"Hey, Spongebob! Over here!"

Spongebob hurried through the crowd to where his friends were waiting.

"You looking forward to a great time, Spongebob?!" asked Patrick excitedly.

"You bet!"

The three friends tried every single one of the huge variety of entertainments and rides. Highlights included Mr. Krabs utterly destroying them all in a coconut shooting contest- "Ye forget I was in the navy!"- Sandy breaking the strength machine and Patrick popping the bouncy castle. They each exchanged gifts, a tradition of Dutchnight. Sandy was overjoyed with her telescope and touched by her 'backscratcher'. Spongebob was similarly overjoyed with his all-purpose hygiene gel and pleased with his 'backscratcher'. Patrick was over the moon about his Jeffrey Jellyfish toy and back-scratching robot.

After a couple of hours of playing, it began to get dark. Spongebob lost the other two in the masses. Although he tried to look for them, he was distracted by the enormous crustacean making his way through the crowd.

"'Scuse me! Sorry! Happy Dutchnight! Oops, sorry!"

"Larry!" called Spongebob happily.

The lobster turned and grinned.

"Hey! Spongebob, right?"

Spongebob nodded.

"Hi, Spongebob!" smiled Sadie.

Spongebob forced a smile, remembering what he had read in the old newspaper.

"Lovely night, huh? We've been having lots of fun!" grinned Larry. Sadie nodded in agreement.

Spongebob noticed that Sadie seemed somewhat distracted.

"Something wrong, Sadie?" he asked nervously.

She shook her head.

"No, I'm just wondering… who will it be this year?"

Spongebob blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

Sadie chuckled humourlessly.

"Of course, you're quite new to Bikini Bottom, aren't you? You don't know about them."

Spongebob's throat felt very dry.

"Know about what?"

Sadie smiled sadly.

"The annual Dutchnight murders."

Spongebob gaped.

"What?!"

Larry looked uncomfortable.

"Every year, for several years now, a murder has occurred on the night of Dutchnight."

"The first was my husband, Fred," Sadie said without a hint of emotion.

"The second was an octopus housewife."

"The third an old sponge, possibly a relative of yours. Old Grandma Squarepants?"

Spongebob gasped.

"Grandma was _murdered_?!"

Suddenly all of his old rage from when she had died was resurfacing. He calmed himself with the images of what had come from that rage. Never again.

Larry patted his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Spongebob."

"On the fourth year, another octopus died, the wife of the rich senator Squilliam Fancyson."

"One linking factor of all these murders, other than the date, is that the true culprit has never been apprehended," Sadie continued. "The only one of Fred's murderers never caught was the one that actually cut off his legs."

"Er… what's the 'Percy Plan'?" asked Spongebob.

Larry took a deep breath.

"You know about the war of unification, right?"

"You mean when Shell City took over all of the underwater Pacific states?"

"That's right. You know how Bikini Bottom was the most powerful opponent in that war?"

"Didn't they almost beat Shell City until the Americans joined in?"

"Exactly. Even after the war, Shell City felt threatened by Bikini Bottom. It didn't help when they got someone into the senate. Eventually, a plan was proposed by a leading senator from America, Professor Percy, to neutralise Bikini Bottom without further bloodshed. The plan was simple: employ Mermaid Man to shrink the whole city to the point that it could be kept in a fishbowl. That way, they posed no threat to anyone and could continue their daily lives pretty much as normal."

"Mermaid Man?!" gasped Spongebob with glee.

Sadie scowled.

"That wasn't the only bit of that you took in, right?"

"Of course not!" Spongebob cringed. "Continue, Larry."

"Obviously, the plan was meant to be kept secret from the citizens of Bikini Bottom, to prevent protest, but the information was leaked to the press, I suspect by one of Percy's rivals. The whole city rose up in protest. It was referred to as a second war, and it did actually come very close to the outbreak of full-blown war more than once."

"However, some citizens thought the plan was a fairly good idea, if it avoided another war," said Sadie darkly.

"Was Fred one of them?" asked Spongebob nervously, already knowing the answer.

"Fred led them. He was a strong believer in standing up for what you believed in."

"It was his murder that led to the collapse of the pro-Plan faction and the Plan was shortly after rejected for good."

Spongebob wasn't sure what to say.

"Every Dutchnight murder since has been of someone connected to the Percy Plan, usually in favour of it."

"For this reason, from the second murder onwards, citizens have been saying that it's a curse."

"A curse?" gasped Spongebob.

"Yes. A curse by the Flying Dutchman against the enemies of Bikini Bottom."

Spongebob forced a nervous laugh.

"But… surely that's ridiculous? I mean… do you two believe it's the Dutchman's curse?"

The grim couple looked at each other.

"Perhaps… it's a curse… of sorts…" Sadie mused. "As for the Dutchman's Ghost being responsible… perhaps not."

Spongebob was confused by the ambiguous answer.

"Spongebob! There you are!"

Patrick and Sandy ran up to them.

"Oh hi, you two!" Sandy exclaimed.

"Evening Sandy, Patrick. Having a nice night?" smiled Sadie.

"You bet!" laughed Patrick.

"That's good. I think we'll be going home now, right, Larry?"

"Er… yeah, see you, guys!" Larry laughed as he and Sadie walked away.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Sandy asked.

"Oh, nothing much…" Spongebob lied. "Just the festival."

* * *

Spongebob leaned his head on his hand. Usually, he was absurdly attentive in boating school, but after the previous night, his mind was elsewhere. One question was prevailing in his mind.

_Did anyone die last night_?

"Spongebob? Spongebob!"

Spongebob looked up to see Mrs. Puff leaning over him.

"1924!" he cried anxiously.

"Spongebob, there's someone outside who wants to see you."

Spongebob blinked.

"Huh?"

When Spongebob stepped outside, he was surprised to see a policewoman, who looked like she was about in her 40s, waiting for him.

"Spongebob Squarepants?" she asked.

"That's me," he replied, wondering what was going on.

"If you'd like to step into my car, I have things I'd like to discuss with you in private. It's also air conditioned in there; I can't stand this heat."

As Spongebob climbed into the backseat, he asked nervously,

"Am I under arrest?"

She laughed humourlessly in a manner that reminded him very much of Sadie.

She rummaged around in a folder that was on the passenger seat and passed him two photographs.

"You recognise these two people, correct?"

"Larry and Sadie?" exclaimed Spongebob in surprise.

"Yes. Those pictures were taken two days ago. These pictures were taken at 3 o'clock this morning."

She handed him two more photos.

Spongebob shrieked.

"W-What the heck is this?!" he croaked.

"Those are Larry the Lobster and Sadie Rechid. Although autopsy has not yet been performed, it appears that Mr. Lobster clawed out his own throat with his claws and Mrs. Rechid burned to death; she was found in an oil drum a little way from Mr. Lobster, who was found by the road leading towards Rock Bottom."

Spongebob could only croak slightly.

"Based on the condition of Mr. Lobster's body, it is believed that he died somewhere around 11 pm; in other words, shortly after you finished speaking with him last night."

"Huh?!"

"I trust you are aware of the story of the Dutchnight murders and of the Flying Dutchman's curse?"

He nodded slightly.

"Once the general public becomes aware of this incident, the deaths will again be attributed to the curse and the police, outside of my small team, will again pay little attention to it. But there is something different this year. There have never before been two Dutchnight victims. This to me is further proof that this is no curse at all."

"It is?" Spongebob asked, confused.

"Yes. I am of the belief that these murders are organised by people against enemies of Bikini Bottom."

"Really?!"

"My suspicion is that Mrs. Rechid was the target, as a former supporter of the Percy Plan, but Mr. Lobster got in the way and so was killed as well."

"Wait, you said that Larry clawed out his throat himself. How is that murder?"

"We suspect that some form of drug was administered, causing temporary suicidal insanity. When the autopsy is performed, we'll know for sure."

"I didn't know drugs could do that," murmured Spongebob.

"There were also multiple wounds on Mr. Lobster's body, so we suspect he was assaulted by multiple people."

"It must have taken a lot to bring down Larry," observed Spongebob, thinking of the lobster's hulking size and rippling muscles.

"Yes, this is more evidence – as if I needed it – that there is more than one perpetrator. I believe some sort of conspiracy to be taking place."

"Conspiracy?!" gasped Spongebob.

"Yes. Why do you think that I wanted to talk to you? My excuse is that you were the last person seen talking to the victims, but more importantly, you are relatively new to Bikini Bottom. It is therefore unlikely that you are involved in any conspiracies, so I feel that you are virtually the only Bikini Bottomite I can trust."

Spongebob was horrified.

"You really think the _whole city _could be in on it?!"

"I think anyone in the city could be in on it."

Spongebob looked at his knees. Could the seemingly utopian town he had run away to really hide such darkness?

"Here's my number, so call me maybe… if you find anything, or want to ask something."

"Thanks…er…"

"O'Malley. Detective Nancy O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department."

"Thanks, Detective O'Malley."

"One last thing, Mr. Squarepants. Could you please keep this conversation a secret? From everyone."

"…Sure."

* * *

Spongebob trudged home alone, his thoughts fixed on his conversation with the detective.

"Hey Spongebob!"

"Hmm?"

Spongebob looked up to see Patrick walking from the opposite direction.

"Hi, Patrick, what are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, just going for a walk. How was school?"

"It was OK; I was a bit tired after last night, so I was less attentive than usual. I'm sure it won't make a difference in the long run, though."

"Yeah, you'll never get better at boating, so it doesn't matter how many lessons you miss!" Patrick laughed.

For some reason, Spongebob felt himself angrily clenching his fists. Why would his best friend say something so mean?

"So what did the police officer want?" asked Patrick when he had stopped laughing.

Spongebob froze.

"What did you say?"

Patrick was smiling serenely, his eyes strangely narrowed.

"The policewoman who came to your school and took you out of class, what did she want?"

_How did Patrick know about that_?!

"Well?" Patrick was still staring with the same eerie expression.

"Oh… nothing important… she was just checking… you know… talking about… my latest crash!"

"_**YOU'RE LYING!**_"

The world froze. Spongebob's head was swimming. Patrick had _screamed _the accusation at him. His face had contorted horribly. The yell had stunned the whole area, previously chirping and chatting and chomping, into a dead silence. Patrick began to take several steps forward, his face returned to its serene yet terrifying blankness. Spongebob's veins flooded with icy fear.

"So," Patrick asked, "what's the truth?"

Spongebob gulped.

He gulped again.

He gulped again.

His throat hurt.

"Sorry, Patrick, I gotta go! I'm late! I have to…uh, get my hair cut!"

Spongebob dashed away, panting frantically.

Patrick stroked his lack of beard.

"Spongebob doesn't have hair! Or… _does _he?"

* * *

Spongebob cleared away his dinner in silence, the way he had stayed since he got home.

"Meow?" asked Gary, wanting affection. Spongebob simply walked past him and sat down in his armchair.

_What was happening to the world_?

The phone rang. Cautiously, he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is Detective Nancy O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department."

"Do you say that every time you introduce yourself?" Spongebob chuckled despite the situation.

"Mr. Squarepants?"

"Yes."

"Good. I just wanted to discuss the murders in more detail with you. I have a feeling we were being watched while we spoke in the car."

Spongebob remembered Patrick and silently agreed.

"You are aware of the details of the Percy Plan, correct?"

"I think so."

"You know about the first victim, Fred Rechid, and his connection to the late Sadie Rechid?"

"If by 'connection', you mean 'married', yeah."

"What about the second victim?"

"Er… an octopus housewife, I think?"

"Correct. Her name was Squillizabeth Tentacles."

"Was a murderer caught?"

"Although I have my suspicions, nobody was ever arrested. I was not on the force at the time, so I was unable to investigate."

"What do you know about the third murder?"

Spongebob gulped.

"She… was my grandmother."

"Oh. I'm very sorry. A suicide note was left, but not in her handwriting. Her body was never recovered, I'm afraid."

Spongebob wiped his eyes.

"And the fourth murder?"

"That was a strange one. The victim was the wife of Senator Squilliam Fancyson, who was in fact opposed to the Percy Plan. Another oddity is that a murderer was caught."

"Huh?"

"However, I am positive they were innocent. He was a local bully named Flatts, with a history of assault, but there was no evidence that he committed the murder. Again, I have strong suspicions about the true identity of the murderer, but this time I was actively prevented from questioning my suspect by my superiors. I was also unable to question Flatts, who was detained in Rock Bottom and has stayed there ever since. It was this incident that led me to believe that there is in fact a conspiracy in Bikini Bottom behind the murders, rather than just a group."

"Wait… you think the _police_ are involved?!"

"The police department has a long history of corruption. It was established by Shell City after the war, after all."

Spongebob gulped for the eighth time.

"So… there really is… a conspiracy… the whole city… could be the enemy?"

"I wouldn't necessarily go that far, but there is almost no doubt that some kind of conspiracy is going on."

"So who can I trust?" he mumbled through dry lips.

"As far as I'm aware, nobody."

There was a long pause.

"Is that all you wanted to say?"

"For now, yes. Goodnight, Mr. Squarepants."

"Goodnight, Detective," said Spongebob as she hung up.

He put down the phone and wearily walked back into his hallway, ready to go to bed.

Then he noticed his door was open.

He cautiously walked towards it. On the table just next to it, he noticed a scrawled note.

'_Spongbob_. _Cam to pley but yu wer on fone_. _Com owt and pley wen yor dun_!_ Luv Patrick_'

Spongebob froze in horror.

Patrick had come in.

Patrick had seen he was on the phone.

"And Patrick listened to my conversation with Detective O'Malley."

Spongebob slammed his door shut, locked it and ran upstairs.

Meanwhile, outside, a lone starfish waited. He stood, very still, silently, watching the dark pineapple in front of him. Staring. Waiting.

* * *

The greatest gift… is worth waiting for.

The greatest gift… comes from the greatest giver.

The greatest gift… is to be loved.

The greatest gift… is to escape the giver.

When the Scallops Cry, Fall Arc

Part Three: Filament

Can you believe?

* * *

Damn those raging pants. By the way, the greatest gift… is positive reviews, although negative ones are fine too.


	3. Fall - Filament

It's time for the exciting third chapter. This chapter has no specific warnings. I still own nothing, because I suck.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Fall Arc

Part Three – Filament

* * *

Spongebob's eyes slowly opened.

"Darn scallops… why are they so loud?"

Spongebob had barely slept that night, paralysed as he was by the fear that at any second, masked conspirators would burst through his window to bundle him away.

All at the behest of Patrick.

The thought made him shiver despite the warmth of the June sun. _Patrick_. His best friend. How could this be happening?!

He yawned and pulled himself out of bed. He still had to go to work today. Surely Mr. Krabs couldn't be in on the conspiracy too? Or Squidward? Heck, how could he know if the frigging _spatula _was plotting against him?!

Once he was ready, he slipped on his shoes and opened the door.

"Can we play now?" asked Patrick.

Spongebob screamed and slammed the door shut. Panting, he thought frantically. The first solution he could think of was the one he opted for. He seized the bar of soap from the bathroom and shoved it in his mouth. After a few moments of furious chewing, he opened the door, bubbles spilling out of his pores.

"I'm not going out today, Patrick," he grumbled. "I've got the suds."

Patrick gasped.

"That's horrible! I'll take you to the doctor right away!" He made a grab for Spongebob's arm, but he jerked it away.

"No! I mean, I'll… do it myself later. I want a lie down first."

Patrick moaned.

"Well, what am I meant to do all day while you're gone?"

Spongebob scowled.

"I dunno, what do you usually do while I'm out?"

"Wait for you to get back," said Patrick calmly, his eyes resuming their eerily narrow quality.

Spongebob struggled to hide his anxiety.

"Go away, Patrick."

He closed the door.

He took a deep breath and walked over to the phone.

"Mr. Krabs?" he said groggily.

"What is it, boy? You sound a bit under the weather."

"I'm sick. I've got the suds, so I won't be coming into work today."

"What the barnacles? You must be really ill! The last time you got the suds, you tried to fight your way into the Krusty Krab! I hope you get better soon, lad!"

"Thanks, Mr. Krabs. Me, too."

Spongebob hung up. How could he have mistrusted Mr. Krabs? But then, he'd trusted Patrick too. Look how that had turned out. Oh, how he longed for life to return to how it used to be.

* * *

He trudged to the doctor alone.

"Alright, Mr. Squarepants, let's have a look at what's wrong with you," smiled Dr. Forrest. He examined Spongebob's throat. After a minute of humming and poking about, he stood back.

"Well, it appears you don't have the suds."

"That's a relief," Spongebob smiled weakly.

"However, you are showing symptoms of a different, far more dangerous disease."

"Huh?!" Spongebob gasped in shock.

"Yes, stupidity. You appear to have eaten a bar of soap," Dr. Forrest said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Spongebob sighed with relief.

"You scared me for a sec there, doc!"

"Why did you eat a bar of soap?" the doctor asked.

Spongebob laughed nervously.

"Ha, well, I was having a party last night, and…"

"Mr. Squarepants, you're lucky I know you well enough not to suspect you of trying to skip work. Whatever your motivations, I'll just have to ignore them."

Spongebob left feeling slightly awkward and desperately hoping that Dr. Forrest wasn't part of the conspiracy.

* * *

As he was walking silently back home, a police boat slowed down beside him.

"Good morning, Mr. Squarepants! What happened to work?"

"Oh! Detective O'Malley! I was feeling a bit ill, so I decided against it."

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked, smiling as though she knew exactly what had happened but didn't blame him.

"Er… quite a bit, yes."

"Well, how about joining me for lunch?" she proposed.

Spongebob was surprised at her offer.

"Sure!"

He climbed in and they pulled up a minute later outside the Salty Spittoon.

"Are we really eating here?" asked Spongebob nervously. "They don't usually let me in. They think I'm not tough enough."

"That won't be a problem," said O'Malley. She strolled up to the hulking doorman, Reg. "Afternoon, Reg," she said carelessly.

"Detective O'Malley," he replied with a slight nod of his head. Spongebob tried to follow her, but he held out a hand.

"How many times do I have to tell you, little man? Get outta here. This place ain't for the likes of you."

"That's OK, Reg," said O'Malley. "He's with me."

Reg raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well… alright. Just don't draw attention to yourself, got it?"

Spongebob nodded.

They chose a table by the window.

"The usual, O'Malley?" asked a passing employee. She nodded.

"Anything for the kid?"

Spongebob gritted his teeth.

"No thanks. I'm fine."

The man walked away.

"Did you want to talk about anything specific?" Spongebob asked in a low voice.

"Not really. Has anything interesting occurred since we spoke on the phone?"

Spongebob stared at the table.

"I think my friend Patrick is in on it."

O'Malley looked surprised.

"Have you got any evidence?"

"No, but he's acting more and more suspicious. He overheard our conversation last night and he was watching us in the car. He was waiting outside my house this morning; that's why I pretended to be ill."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Is there anything you wanted to ask about?"

"How much do we know about my other friends?" he asked. "That might give me an idea as to who I can trust."

"Definitely not Squidward Tentacles," she said immediately. Spongebob stiffened.

"Huh? Why not?"

"He is connected with almost every murder. He was a fellow supporter of the Percy Plan, along with Fred. On the same night as Fred's murder, his house was burned down by a mob. Your friend Mr. Star apparently showed exceptional bravery by trying to rescue everything within; very fiercely loyal, that one, it seems."

Spongebob was shocked. He wasn't aware Squidward and Patrick had even spoken to each other before he arrived. So, both of them had been working against him behind his back all along, had they?!

"The second victim, Squillizabeth Tentacles, was his mother."

"What?!" cried Spongebob. Several patrons turned around.

"Yes, and based on the evidence, I suspect that he was the murderer."

She covered his mouth before he could issue an even louder cry.

"Please try and keep your voice down, Mr. Squarepants. This is supposed to be secret."

"OK, but why would Squidward kill his mother?!"

"I have no idea. He was admitted to Bikini Bottom General shortly afterwards for a brief while with an undisclosed condition."

Spongebob held his head in his hands.

"Squidward… I can't believe it."

"I don't believe he was involved in the murder of… Mrs. Squarepants," she hurried past that subject, "but I am certain that he was the murderer of Mrs. Fancyson. He and Senator Fancyson have a rivalry that goes back many years, since they were in high school. After the murder, he completely disappeared for three months before suddenly reappearing as if he'd never been gone. Some excuse about needing a break and running away to Samoa."

Spongebob froze. At that time, he had been in Samoa. Squidward had been that close, having just committed a murder?! It was an unnerving thought, to say the least.

"What about Sandy?" he asked. "She only came to Bikini Bottom a little while before I did, right?"

"Yes," allowed O'Malley, "but she was sent by the American government to conduct undisclosed experiments for the 'mutual benefit of the two nations of the United States of America and the United States of Panmarin', as it was put. I wouldn't feel comfortable trusting her."

Spongebob stared at the table, lost in his thoughts of turmoil.

"Mr. Krabs? What about him?"

O'Malley smiled slightly.

"Some good news there; there are no obvious links between him and any aspect of the case."

Spongebob sighed with relief.

"Thank goodness. At least Mr. Krabs is probably safe."

She nodded slightly.

"All the same, I would continue to recommend that you exercise caution with every citizen."

He nodded.

"I understand."

She set her cutlery down.

"Shall we be leaving, then?"

He nodded again and stood.

"Thank you for your time," she smiled.

"Don't forget; there is nobody 100% trustworthy. For the sake of practise, I recommend that you do not completely trust me, as I do not completely trust you. This is dangerous work."

* * *

Spongebob moped into his home at 6 o'clock.

"Some dinner would be nice…" he mumbled to himself. Why hadn't he eaten at the Salty Spittoon? What an idiot. He prepared some lasagne and prepared to put it in the oven. However, when he turned it on, the flames appeared to be roaring at him. Reaching for him. Horrible images flashed, unbidden, in his mind. Homes collapsing among hungry flames. A little girl screaming with pain as her skin burned away. He screamed with her, curled up in a ball on the floor, shivering. He gave up on the oven. But he was so hungry!

He sat slumped in his chair, stomach growling angrily. What if even his belly was his enemy now? He dismissed this ridiculous idea. He should just stand up and make something that didn't require open flames. Anything.

The doorbell rang.

He struggled out of his chair and walked to the door. When he opened it, he began to wish that he'd just stayed where he was.

"Howdy, Spongebob!" grinned Sandy. "I heard you were sick, so me and Patrick thought we'd bring you some Krabby Patties as a 'Get Well Soon' present!"

Patrick waved from behind her.

"It was my idea!" he shouted happily.

Spongebob watched them both nervously and gulped yet again.

"What's the matter? You still feeling bad?" Sandy asked, sounding concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine… just a bit tired," he assured her half-heartedly.

She smiled.

"Well, with luck, you should be right as rain by tomorrow! What did the doctor say?"

_He said I was an idiot_, thought Spongebob. _I bet you know exactly what he said, don't you_? _You're all in this together, right_?!

"He… didn't think it looked too bad," he mumbled.

"Well, that's unhelpful," Sandy grumbled. "Still, you can't be that bad. Saw you out and about earlier."

Spongebob froze.

"You did?"

"Yeah. I gotta ask, how did you get into the Salty Spittoon? You should be too much of a _nancy _to get in there."

_Detective __**Nancy **__O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department_.

Spongebob inwardly screamed. _They knew_. Sandy had followed him to the Salty Spittoon. She'd seen and probably heard his conversation with O'Malley. She, and therefore they, knew everything.

"Th-That's really rude! How dare you say something like that?!" he stammered. "I don't want people in my house who insult me!"

"We're not in your house," pointed out Patrick. "You haven't let us in."

"That's not the point! Go away!"

"But I didn't say anything!"

"Just go!"

Sandy glared at him. Both of his former friends had narrowed their eyes to grotesque slits.

"Well, if that's really how you feel, we'll go," she said in a calm voice even more eerie than Patrick's. "Enjoy your burgers alone."

She shoved the box against his stomach.

"By the way, I added a special surprise in one of them," added Patrick, smiling slightly. "I hope you like it."

The door creaked closed.

At the last second, Sandy grabbed it and her eye appeared in the crack.

"I hope I see you at work tomorrow, Spongebob. I don't want you to be 'ill' anymore."

She slammed the door.

Spongebob stood very still, aside from the odd tremble, for 15 minutes. Eventually, his by now roaring stomach persuaded him to head back to the kitchen. He placed the box on the table and opened it. Two sweet and succulent Krabby Patties tempted his nostrils with their scent. They were good ones. Mr. Krabs must have made them himself. Surely, then, they must be harmless.

But what about Patrick's 'special surprise'? What had he added? He shook his head. No matter how evil Patrick turned out to be, he could never be devious. It wasn't in his nature. It was probably just hot sauce or something, meant to frighten him. He was so hungry. Finally, he decided he couldn't resist. He tentatively took a patty and bit into it, savouring the juicy flesh, the heat, the crunch of the vegetables, the warm sauce running down his throat-

The stabbing pain in the inside of his cheek.

He spat the mouthful into his hand, searching for the source of the pain. A glint caught his eye.

A needle.

A sewing needle.

There was a sewing needle in his burger.

He screamed.

Furiously, still wailing and screeching, he mashed the burgers in his hands and flung them at the walls. They slid to the floor, leaving poisonous red trails behind them. He clutched his head, his nails drawing blood, still screaming, and flung himself backwards into the cabinet. He sat there, curled up, and screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

And _screamed_.

* * *

It was almost an hour before Spongebob had calmed down. He simply lay where he was, trembling. His throat was too sore to make a sound. He ignored Gary's pitiful mews.

They were after him.

It was as simple as that. Those he had called his friends, who only a matter of days ago he had been in this very room having a party with, had just tried to kill him. Had the whole world gone insane?

At least he could turn to someone for help. Despite her parting words, Spongebob felt positive that he could trust O'Malley.

"Hello, this is Detective Nancy O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department."

"Detective O'Malley, this is Spongebob."

"What's wrong?" Could she tell just from those few words that something had happened? How? Was he being that obvious? _Or did she already know what had happened_?!

No. He could trust O'Malley. He was just being paranoid.

He took a deep breath.

"Sandy and Patrick just tried to kill me."

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Really?!"

She sounded shocked. Unless she was a very good actor, he doubted she knew already.

"They came round just now to give me some Krabby Patties and one of them had a sewing needle in," he blurted at a rapid pace. "They overheard our conversation at the Salty Spittoon earlier. They know about me and you. That's why they did it."

"Where is the needle now? We might be able to use it as evidence that you're in danger."

Spongebob hurried back to the kitchen and began rummaging through the demolished patties. Try as he might, there was no sign of the needle.

"Sorry," he told her. "I was really upset when it happened, so I'm afraid I lost it when I threw the patties at the wall."

"Hmm…" she said. He pictured her stroking her chin, deep in thought.

"Well, that doesn't matter so much. There should be plenty of evidence once I get into Rock Bottom."

"You're going to Rock Bottom?" Spongebob asked in surprise.

"Yes. You remember the guy they arrested for the fourth murder, Flatts?"

"Yeah?"

"He died last night. Suicide, apparently. Guess how?"

Spongebob had a sickening feeling in his throat.

"He tore out his own throat with his bare hands."

Spongebob fought back bile.

"Therefore, I'm going in there in a couple of days to investigate his body myself. Once I've finally got some info on Flatts, I might start to get some answers. I promise you, as soon as I can, I will try and get you to safety. I won't let you get hurt again in this case. Regardless of what I said earlier, I do believe I can trust you. You may be the only person I can trust."

Spongebob allowed himself a small smile. He wasn't completely alone. He still had one friend in the world.

"Speaking of your friends, I've been doing some digging. It appears they all have some shady pasts, not just Mr. Tentacles."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, Ms. Cheeks, for one,"

The doorbell rang.

Spongebob turned and stared at the grim steel door.

The bell rang again.

Through the small window he could see the dark outline of a long, pointed head.

The bell rang again.

He gently set the phone down and reached for a weapon. He found a broom.

The bell ran again.

He slowly approached, broom held at the ready.

The bell rang again.

The bell rang again.

The bell rang again.

Spongebob gingerly put the key in the lock. He twisted it with a slight squeak and the door burst open, suddenly stopped by the chain that still held it from fully opening. Spongebob jumped back slightly, broom still poised. Patrick's face appeared in the gap and he bit his lip.

"Hi Spongebob!" the starfish smiled. "Sorry to drop in again, but I thought that since you're ill, it might be a good idea for you to have some vegetables with the patties!"

It was a sensible idea. That was how Spongebob knew immediately that it wasn't Patrick's. Evidently, Patrick had been sent to check Spongebob's condition. He considered the possibility that it was also Patrick's job to finish him off if he wasn't dead yet.

"Well? You gonna let me in?"

"Why should I?" asked Spongebob sharply.

Patrick looked miffed.

"Well, I brought you these vegetables and I need to come in to give them to you."

"What if I don't want them?"

"Well, you need to eat them, or you'll stay sick and we don't want that."

Spongebob glared through the gap.

"I think I would be worse off if I ate those vegetables, considering what was in the last food you brought me."

Patrick smirked.

"Oh, come on, Spongebob. That was just a harmless prank. I promise these don't have anything in them."

"_Harmless prank_?!" spat Spongebob. "I don't think so!"

Patrick stopped smiling.

"Come on, Spongebob. I'm just a bit worried about you. Can't you at least take the vegetables?"

"Shut up about the freaking vegetables!" yelled Spongebob. "There's no way I'm falling for that trick again! Stop screwing with me and get out of here!"

Patrick stared, his eyes narrowed once again.

"Take them. Please."

"Get out!"

"Spongebob, please."

"Get out!"

"Spongebob, open the door!"

"GET OUT!"

"Spongebob!"

Patrick seized the chain and began shaking it violently.

"LET ME IN!"

Spongebob slammed the door on Patrick's hand.

"AAARRRGH!"

"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" screamed Spongebob repeatedly, slamming the door again with every cry.

"Spongebob! Spongebob, please, you're hurting me! Stop it, please! Spongebob! Spongebob! Spongebob, stop! Agh! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It hurts!"

"It doesn't hurt as much as what you put Sadie through! It doesn't hurt as much as what Grandma went through! It doesn't hurt as much as what you're doing to me! Just leave me alone and GET OUT!" screamed Spongebob wildly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" sobbed Patrick, eventually pulling out and disappearing, allowing Spongebob to close the door properly.

"Oh, I wish you were…" he breathed heavily, slumping down against the cold metal, utterly exhausted. After a moment's rest, he rose and headed back to where he had left the phone.

"Are you still there, Detective?" he asked wearily, holding it to his ear.

"What just happened? I heard shouting!"

Spongebob frowned into the distance.

"Patrick just tried again."

He heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What did he do?"

"He offered me vegetables. I'm guessing he was sent to check if I was dead and to try and kill me again if I wasn't."

"What did you do?"

"I managed to get rid of him after I kind of slammed his hand in the door."

There was a sigh.

"This is getting really worrying. Now that you've been openly hostile and revealed that you know that they know that you know about them, they're likely to come after you in force. You have to be extremely careful. Make sure that all entrances to your home are locked and barricaded."

Spongebob nodded before remembering that she couldn't see him.

"Got it."

He hurried to the door and checked the locks were all secure. With a lot of grunting and struggling, he pushed his sofa through from the sitting room and positioned it in front of the door.

"Don't forget the windows," O'Malley's voice said in his ear.

He bolted the kitchen and living room windows then proceeded upstairs. In his bedroom, he took a sad, fond look at Gary, sleeping peacefully, then walked over to the window. It had begun to rain. He could hear the droplets hammering on the roof of the pineapple. As he reached for the latch he stopped.

Patrick hadn't left.

He was stood, drenched, completely still. He was still holding the box in his hands. His mouth was moving.

Suddenly he looked up.

He was staring at Spongebob. His hand was bleeding freely. Spongebob's own hand, still damaged from the escape from the dump, twinged.

"Mr. Squarepants? Are you still there?"

"What's he saying?" he mumbled to himself.

Raindrops appeared to trickling from Patrick's eyes. His mouth kept moving, making a repetitive pattern of words.

"I'm… so… rry…"

That was it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Over and over.

"Mr. Squarepants? What's happening?"

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Mr. Squarepants! What's going on?! Mr. Squarepants?! Why do you keep apologising?!"

The two stood still, staring, apologising in synchronisation, endlessly.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

* * *

I'm sorry… I hurt you.

I'm sorry… for your sins.

I'm sorry… you're trapped.

I'm sorry… for this world.

Please… forgive me.

When the Scallops Cry, Fall Arc

Part Four: Dead End

Can you believe?

* * *

And so we reach the end of another chapter. Tune in next time for the thrilling and appropriately-named conclusion of the first arc.


	4. Fall - Dead End

At last, the _thrilling_ and very aptly-named conclusion to the first arc. Feel free to enjoy, or not, as you please. There'll be more after this, and it'll just get worse. If I owned anything, I wouldn't be writing this on a fanfiction website, I'd be making lots of money off of it.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Fall Arc

Part Four – Dead End

* * *

Spongebob blearily opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 4 am. Crap, the last time he'd seen it before going to sleep it had been 3:05. He rubbed his eyes. He couldn't wait for this horrible business to be over. He froze and thought for a moment. What if it didn't end? What if O'Malley couldn't get him out? What if he fell victim to Bikini Bottom's artificial curse just like Larry and Sadie and Grandma?

He could die any day now. He might even die tonight, if they really were going to come after him in force as O'Malley predicted. Well, like hell he was going to keel over and let them kill him. He wasn't going down without a fight. Without a second's thought, he climbed out of bed and began hoisting his stuffed weights in the air. Even if he died, he was going to take some of them with him and make sure he put his death to good use. Perhaps with the evidence O'Malley could get hold of from him, she could free Bikini Bottom. Yes, that was a comforting thought.

He stopped and put the weights down. Well, if he was going to be leaving evidence, he should probably leave something that was actually going to help. A post-mortem testimony.

He set a sheet of A4 down on the desk and picked up a pencil. After a moment's thought, he began to write.

_I, Spongebob Squarepants, am being targeted_.

For ten minutes he scrawled his last message onto the paper. When he was done, he folded it four times and taped it to the back of his clock. He looked at the weights. Should he do more strength training? It occurred to him that he couldn't stay inside all the time. It was only half 4; he could risk a walk with little chance of encountering hostility.

He tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake Gary. After a mental debate, he decided moving the sofa would be worth it for a bit of extra muscle building. He unlocked all five locks and peeked out of the door, scanning the area for any sign of Patrick. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he slipped out and strolled away, deliberately trying to disguise his edginess. Deciding to avoid the city, he headed towards the place he always felt freest and calmest; Jellyfish Fields. He strode down the deserted road, jauntily whistling nothing in particular. He stopped. A small side road wound away down the slope to his left. Roughly 500 metres away, he could see a tiny cottage. He had time for a quick detour.

He'd always loved Grandma's house. It had been a delightful, cosy little place, with the smell of her fresh homemade cookies always in the air. The place had always seemed to radiate cheerfulness and could cheer up anyone who visited in seconds. Looking at it now, abandoned for two years, falling into a miserable state of disrepair, was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Would his beloved pineapple become like this? Would it not be re-inhabited, would it not be demolished, would it simply be left to wither away? Would there be nothing to commemorate his memory? Would he simply be forgotten by Bikini Bottom?

A sudden thought cheered him slightly. If he died, he would see Grandma again. That was a comforting thought. He remembered the words she had told him whenever he cried; _you_'_ve always got to smile_,_ even in the face of Hell_. He could stay with her and be warmed by her gentle love forever. His parents would join them after a while. Perhaps he'd be forgiven. He could see all his friends too. Larry and Sadie would be there. Maybe, in death, Patrick and Sandy and Squidward would return to how they used to be. Maybe he could return to the happy days he'd lost.

_But were those happy days a lie_?

What if Patrick and the others had never really cared for him? What if the monsters he'd thought they'd become were there all along, watching him and waiting to see if they should close in and devour him? How could he know?

Ol' Reliable.

That was how he knew. Once upon a time, there had been a Patrick Star who had cared for him. That Patrick was gone now, probably forever. But he had been there.

"_Happy Birthday, Spongebob_!"

"_Thanks, Patrick_!" _he replied happily_. _Patrick held out a box, exquisitely wrapped with a fine ribbon_.

"_What's this_?" _he asked, surprised_.

"_Your birthday present, duh_!"

"_Huh_?"

_Spongebob tentatively reached out and took it, staring in confusion_.

"_But… you're not my family_."

"_So_?" _asked Patrick, looking bewildered_. "_You don't just get birthday presents from your family_;_ you get them from friends too_!"

_Spongebob blinked_.

"_You're… my friend_?"

_Patrick smiled_.

"_Of course I'm your friend_. _I'll always be your best friend_."

Tears rolled down his face. He had believed in him.

_Patrick Star will always be my best friend_.

_I miss Patrick_.

_Won't you come back, Patrick_?

_Friends protect each other, right_?

_Friends are always there to help you_.

_Please help me, Patrick_.

_Save me from this new you_.

_Please come back, Grandma_.

_Please come back, joy_.

_I miss you all_.

_I want to return_..._ to that perfect Bikini Bottom_.

He wiped his tears away. He should leave this place. He took one last longing look at his Grandma's cottage and walked away.

* * *

Spongebob returned to the main road in time to see a small figure approaching.

"Morning, Spongebob! Taking an early walk?" asked Plankton, unusually amicably. Spongebob had no idea if Plankton was an enemy or not. He certainly seemed capable of being part of some terrible conspiracy.

"Nice weather, don't you think?" the microbe asked.

"Hmm… Certainly better than that rain last night," he replied guardedly. The sun had risen a while before and although it was early, Spongebob was already warm.

"I'm not sure it'll last, though. There are telltale signs around, Spongebob; I think a storm might be heading our way."

Was that supposed to be implying something? Spongebob couldn't see any signs of real storms. Could Plankton be up to something?

Perhaps it would be best to change the subject.

"So… how's business at the Chum Bucket?" Spongebob asked with a half-hearted chuckle.

Plankton frowned slightly.

"Can you believe I haven't had a single customer since the last time you asked me that?"

Spongebob mock gasped.

"Really?!"

He smiled.

"Come to think of it, how was your holiday?" Plankton asked.

"Oh, it was great! I had a really good time, I was visiting my parents."

"Well, good for you. I think I'll be going now. Enjoy the rest of your walk!"

"You too!" replied Spongebob.

_Well, that was a weird conversation, _he thought.

He didn't see Plankton turn off down the same little road he had just come from.

* * *

At long last, he made it to Jellyfish Fields.

Ah, the cool breeze blowing through his pores! For a moment, he felt as though all the troubles of the past days were being blown away. Then the breeze stopped and he felt the flood of despair weigh him down once more.

Looking around, however, he couldn't help but feel more at ease. Here, nature was continuing as always. Flocks of jellyfish floated lazily overhead. Scallops flew past, chirping loudly. He smiled sadly, fond memories of little Junior returning. The sweet sound of his cries. Rocking him to sleep. Feeding him. Patrick rocking him to sleep. Patrick feeding him. Patrick laughing. Patrick smiling. He missed Patrick's laugh.

Spongebob banished the sentimental thoughts from his head. He had to forget the old days. He was a marked man and he had to make as much use as he could of his remaining life. His enemies were those he had considered friends in those memories. If he kept hold of them, he would show mercy. Mercy was not an option. He was going to be killed. He had to be prepared to respond in kind.

The scallops had stopped crying. Spongebob checked his watch. It was only half five; they usually kept up the noise until eight. Why the sudden silence?

He listened.

It wasn't just the scallops. Everything had fallen silent. The fields around him were deserted. There were no jellyfish, no scallops, no horses, not even a microbe could be seen. He listened very carefully. Not a sound. Except for the slow trudging steps behind him.

There was only one place he hadn't looked. Behind. He wasn't alone.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned, dreading what he would see, already knowing.

Patrick.

He was barely two metres away. How had he snuck up on him so easily?

He should have known he couldn't escape the watchful eyes of the dark side of Bikini Bottom. It had been naïve of him to try. Patrick must have been following him the whole way. He must have seen everything.

"Hi Spongebob!" he called slowly, smiling, raising a tubby hand.

Spongebob's pupils shrank to the size of needle points. He stopped breathing.

The machete.

Patrick was holding the machete.

The same machete he had threatened him with before.

Patrick was coming for him.

Remembering to breathe, he rasped in heavy lungfuls of air.

"How are you doing? It's pretty early to be out for a walk, huh?"

He was firmly grasping the machete in a single hand that was poorly wrapped in tissue paper.

Spongebob took a step back.

"W-What are you doing with that?!" he gasped.

Patrick's eyes narrowed, but his long thin smile remained in place.

"What do you mean?" he asked in a low, slightly playful voice. He was mocking him.

Spongebob stepped back again.

"Don't screw with me! Why have you got that freaking machete?!"

Patrick stepped forward, twirling the colossal blade. His smile broadened further. His eyes narrowed further.

"I have _no idea _what you're talking about."

Spongebob fixed the starfish with a furious glare.

"Don't give me that crap!"

Patrick took another step closer.

"Stay back!" yelled Spongebob frantically, raising a hand. _Idiot_, he thought. _What are you going to threaten him with_?

Patrick cocked his head slightly and surveyed him through his slitted eyes.

"You know, Spongebob, you've been acting awfully strange lately."

"Are you surprised?!"

"Have you ever apologised to someone, Spongebob?"

Patrick had stopped smiling. Instead he was fixing Spongebob with a dull glare.

"I was out there for a long time, Spongebob. Are you going to apologise to me?"

He raised his hand once more, showing Spongebob the tissue paper.

"It really hurt, Spongebob."

Spongebob didn't move a muscle.

"Well?"

"Why should I apologise to you?"

Patrick looked surprised.

Spongebob's face contorted with rage.

"Why aren't you apologising to me?!"

Patrick looked confused.

"Like I just said, I did!"

"That was just for that one attack! You haven't even considered all the apologies you owe me! Why don't you apologise for killing Fred Rechid?! What about my Grandma? Aren't you sorry for killing her?! Or Sadie and Larry?! In fact, aren't you sorry for everything you put Sadie through?! Since she's not around anymore, you can apologise to me instead! You could try apologising for lying to me about your past while you're at it! Don't forget about hiding that Squidward killed his own mother and someone else! Not to mention Sandy on her secret government operation or whatever it is! Are you sorry for leaving me to be worm meat?! Are you sorry for stalking me everywhere I go?! Are you sorry for hiding a needle in my food?! Are you sorry for coming back to try again after that failed?! Are you sorry for sentencing me to death?! Are you sorry for lying and pretending to be my friend when you were plotting against me all along?! Are you sorry for stealing my life away from me?! Give me my happiness back and I'll forgive you!"

He panted slightly.

Patrick looked shocked. His mouth was hanging open gormlessly. He closed it and scowled at Spongebob.

"Spongebob, I know you're scared. Why don't you come to us? We've all been scared before. _Let me help you_."

"Like hell!"

Spongebob took a few steps back and tripped on a rock. Patrick drew closer.

"Don't worry, Spongebob. All of the problems, everything that scares you, it's all because of the Dutchman's will. You can't let the demons beat you."

So he was still trying the 'curse' bullcrap, was he?!

"Get away from me!"

He scrambled backwards, but Patrick kept advancing.

"I promise you, all the problems will go away. I can help you. Just come here. I can make all of the problems go away."

Spongebob stared, terrified, at the razor edge of the machete, barely a foot from his throat.

"Spongebob, come here… _I can help you_."

Spongebob tightly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"_**YOU'RE LYING!**_"

With that scream, he pushed Patrick away from him.

Patrick fell flat on his back.

Both invertebrates lay still and silent for a moment. Then Patrick began to shake.

"He…hehehe…heheheheheh…"

Spongebob peered uneasily at him.

"Pat…rick?"

"_**BLAAAAAAHHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! AAAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAHAA! WAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHA! HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAH!**_"

Spongebob stared in horror. Patrick's face was contorted beyond recognition. The horrific, screeching laughter echoed for miles across the deserted fields.

Spongebob's nerves snapped.

He ran.

Panting furiously, he pushed himself faster than he'd ever gone, desperate more than anything to get away from the hysterical monstrosity he had left behind. He could still hear the peels of hellish laughter ringing out across the vast emptiness. He had to keep running. Anywhere, even into the arms of the conspiracy he was trying so hard to keep ahead of, was better than near what had been Patrick.

Such was his haste that he did not look where he was going, an error that would change his fate forever. A simple stone, no bigger than a scallop, caught the end of his shoe and tripped him. His speed was too great. He plunged forwards on a direct course for a stack of coral. He closed his eyes, knowing full well how utterly screwed he now was. Amid the jolt of pain, the last thing he heard was a voice cry out his name.

* * *

Spongebob jolted upright and felt a stab of pain in his head. Wincing, he clutched the egg-sized bruise he could feel under his fingers. He looked out of the window. It was dark. How long had he been out cold? Suddenly he realised that the window was very familiar. He looked around, bewildered. He was in his living room. How did he get here?

"Are you OK, Spongebob?" asked a familiar voice from behind him. A voice that filled him with dread.

"You hit your head pretty badly and got knocked out. I carried you home myself."

Spongebob turned to face Patrick. The starfish's face gave nothing away. How could he seem so blank and calm after that horrific laughing fit earlier? He shuddered at the very thought of Patrick's nightmarish face.

He heard the sound of his front door open.

"Hey guys!"

Sandy was here too. Spongebob felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was trapped. There was nowhere to run. He had no means of escape. Suddenly his eyes fell on the only object in the room that he could use as a weapon. If only he could reach it! But could he bring himself to taint his only memento of his carefree days?

The simple answer was yes. He had nothing to lose by this point.

Sandy sat down next to Patrick, both to his left.

"I've called the doctor over to take a look at your head, just so you know," she offered.

Dr. Forrest's face flashed in his mind. No way! Could it be that they weren't just going to kill him, they were going to experiment on him?!

Sandy looked serious.

"Spongebob, we need to talk about how you've been acting lately."

Patrick rubbed his hand. Spongebob tensed. Could it be they would give him a chance to live if he went along with them?

"I mean, this is more than just illness. You've been rude, you've been hiding from us, and you've even hurt Patrick! He's your best friend, but look what you did to him!"

She held out Patrick's hand and unwrapped the tissue paper. His hand was adorned with vicious red welts and deep black bruises. He pulled his eyes away from the sight. If that was supposed to make him pity Patrick, they would have to try harder.

Sandy stood.

"I believe that the first order of business is to punish you for hurting Patrick."

Spongebob felt sick. So this was it. His time had come. Would they kill him, or would it be torture?

"You should understand, I wanted to make the punishment more severe," she continued sternly. "Patrick insisted on this, though, so I'm respecting his wishes. You should thank him."

So Patrick had asked for a merciful killing for his sake, had he?! How freaking kind of him!

Suddenly Patrick pinned his arms behind his back.

"Wha- What are you doing?!" he yelled frantically. "Let me go!"

Sandy reached into the back pocket of her suit. What? What was she getting?

His heart stopped when he saw it.

A needle.

Not a sewing needle, this time.

A syringe.

She removed the cap and smirked.

"Just hold still and this'll be easier for everyone."

Spongebob struggled frantically.

"Please! No! Stop!"

Sandy kept advancing.

The wicked tip of the needle winked in the light.

The same words were replaying in his head over and over.

"_We suspect that some form of drug was administered, causing temporary suicidal insanity_."

"_We suspect that some form of drug was administered, causing temporary suicidal insanity_."

"_We suspect that some form of drug was administered, causing temporary suicidal insanity_."

This was their punishment.

_Temporary suicidal insanity_.

He was going the same way as Larry.

He would die, tearing out his own throat with his bare hands.

This was it.

He struggled against Patrick's iron grip, but it was no use. The starfish was too strong.

"This is gonna be hilarious," he muttered in Spongebob's ear.

Sandy was getting closer.

Spongebob felt a weak gap in Patrick's right arm – he could slip his hand through!

Sandy stuck the needle into his arm.

* * *

"_**NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**_"

Spongebob lunged out, his aim perfect. He struck Sandy's helmet dead at the point he hit at the party so long ago.

The glass shattered beneath his hand.

Sandy collapsed, writhing.

Before Patrick could react, he dived for his only weapon, his one chance of escape.

Ol' Reliable. Heavy enough to pin down twenty jellyfish. Heavy enough to beat in one pinhead.

"_Happy birthday!" shouted Patrick happily, waving his arms in the air._

"_Patrick, this isn't a birthday party," Squidward frowned._

"_It's not?" the chubby starfish asked, looking very confused._

"_It was supposed to be a 'Welcome Home' party, until someone tried to kill me!" shouted Sandy, standing up and brushing herself off._

Tears flowed freely from his eyes as he swung down on Patrick's head.

"_It's great to be back!" cried Spongebob joyfully, pulling his friends into a hug._

"_Hey Patrick, remember that time we were a mommy and a daddy?" Spongebob asked._

This wasn't fair.

"_You'll never steal the formula from us, Plankton!" Spongebob cried proudly. "Together, we're all an unstoppable team!"_

Blood pouring down his face, his expression savage, screaming something incomprehensible, Patrick made one last lunge for Spongebob. With a final desperate swing, Patrick was felled. He lay with Sandy in a spreading pool of blood on Spongebob's floor.

"_Happy Birthday, Spongebob_!"

"_Of course I'm your friend_. _I'll always be your best friend_."

Spongebob dropped his beloved net to the ground, staggered backwards and collapsed against the wall. He wept.

"How?" he mumbled, his voice cracking. "How could this happen to me? Where did my happy days go?"

_I want to return_…_ to that perfect Bikini Bottom_.

He sat still, hunched against the wall, staring at the twisted bodies on the floor, sobbing, for several minutes.

Gary scuttled over and mewled pitifully. Spongebob looked up and smiled through his tears.

"Hey, Gary," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry about this. I can't take care of you any more. You've got to go find a new home."

When Gary did not move, he made a pitiful effort of waving him away.

"Go on, go! You've got to run away now!"

Gary turned and scuttled out of the room. He could never understand.

A boat pulled up outside. The doctor had arrived. He had to leave. He may still have a chance.

As he ran through the cool night air, tears streaming away behind him but with not a single regretful look back, he began to doubt that. He could feel their poison pulsing through his system. His time had come.

* * *

A junior officer placed a stack of reports on O'Malley's desk. She rubbed her temples wearily. She was worked too hard.

"Detective O'Malley!" called her subordinate, Detective Blake. "Phone call from a citizen!"

Well, that would be a welcome distraction, unless it was from Spongebob Squarepants, in which case it would only serve to worry her more.

She picked up the receiver.

"Detective Nancy O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department, how may I be of assistance?"

She inwardly cringed. _I sound like a shop worker, not a detective_.

"Detective O'Malley?"

She sighed. It _was_ Spongebob Squarepants. If this call freaked her out as much as the last one, she was pulling him out of Bikini Bottom immediately.

"Mr. Squarepants, what seems to be the problem?"

On the other end of the line, Spongebob stood in a telephone box surrounded by nothing but a huge black hole on one side.

"Detective, it's happened. They went all out. Patrick and Sandy, they… they attacked me. I only just got out. They're all after me. I've been running for hours."

Her eyes widened. She ducked down and covered both her mouth and the phone with her hand.

"Where are you now?" she murmured.

"The phone booth, outside Rock Bo_oooaaaauuggh_tom…" he rasped.

Something was wrong.

"Mr. Squarepants, are you all right? You sound… somewhat hoarse."

He made a sound somewhere between a cough, a gag and a laugh.

"My bad… they got me. You were right about the drugs, by the way. The drugs really did get Larry."

O'Malley froze in horror.

"Mr. Squarepants… please… please tell me you're not clawing at your throat!"

Spongebob gagged again, spitting up blood. Incapable of resisting, he once again scratched at the bloody mess that was his throat.

"But that's not all."

O'Malley paused, about to yell for Blake to get a car ready.

"What is it, Mr. Squarepants?"

He groaned.

"It's the curse, Detective. The Flying Dutchman's curse. _It's real_."

O'Malley was dumbfounded.

"I can hear it, Detective. It's behind me. It's creeping up on me. Every step I take, I hear another, just out of sync. It's coming for me, Detective. _It's right behind me_."

"What's behind you?!" O'Malley yelled, drawing stares from across the office.

"I-I can't turn around. If I do, I'm dead. I can't look, Detective."

"Mr. Squarepants, please! I know you're scared, but you have to tell me what it is! _Mr_. _Squarepants_!"

"I'm sorry… _ugh_… I… failed…"

Spongebob slumped down against the wall of the booth, leaving a trail of blood. With his last breath, he gasped two final words into the phone.

"I'm… sorry..."

* * *

_Bikini Bottom Police Department_

_Official Incident Report_

_Detective in Chief: Nancy O'Malley_

_6/30/1946_

'Yesterday, at 11:05 pm, the bodies of two Bikini Bottom citizens were found dead. One, a recent government-sponsored immigrant squirrel named Sandy Cheeks, had her oxygen supply cut off through damage to her protective helmet and drowned. The other, a lifelong starfish citizen named Patrick Star, was beaten to death with a heavy net designed for catching jellyfish. The estimated time of death is 10:50 pm. Both bodies were discovered in the home of another recent citizen named Spongebob Squarepants, who is almost certainly the culprit. His motives are as yet unknown. After committing the murders, Mr. Squarepants fled his home and was later discovered in a phone booth adjacent to the Rock Bottom Prison. He was found dead, having clawed out his own throat with his fingernails. Several witnesses have stated that Mr. Squarepants exhibited unusual behaviour over the several days previously, having just returned from a holiday in Samoa, his home state. Whether this visit has any link to his behaviour is unknown. Witnesses say that the behaviour he displayed included seclusion and aggression, both of which contradicted his typical personality. At 11:00 pm, the police station received a phone call from Mr. Squarepants, from the phone booth in which he died. He gave very little information, other than a claim that his victims had made an attempt on his life; possibly paranoia, or, if true, worth investigating.'

* * *

O'Malley wearily rubbed her eyes. She had been up all night, trying to sort out the Squarepants case. Her best lead yet to getting at Bikini Bottom's rotten core and he was dead. She was also unable to give away any information about her contact with him or her knowledge of the conspiracy for fear of being sold out. She had nobody to confide in. She looked longingly at the picture of a smiling man on her desk.

"Why did you have to go, Fred?" she murmured. "Why did you have to start all this madness?"

Blake stuck his head round the door.

"Detective O'Malley, we've just received a report of another murder case, if you're feeling up to it."

She looked up in shock.

"Another one?!"

He nodded grimly.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

He nodded and left.

She studied the report once more. Somehow she felt she may never solve this case. What really threw her was Squarepants' dying message. Could there really be such a thing as a curse? Of course not.

She surveyed the last section. Reading it saddened her. Had he known what was coming? She'd thought rather poorly of him at first, but in the end, he'd been very brave. She echoed his last words as she put the file down and left the office.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

'During the search of the crime scene, a note written by the culprit was discovered taped to the back of his clock. The note reads as follows:

"I, Spongebob Squarepants, am being targeted. Why, or by whom, I am not certain, although I believe Sandy Cheeks and Patrick Star to be among those responsible.

If you are reading this, I am most likely dead. This note is a means of communicating my situation to those who need to know. One vital detail is that all of this is related to the conspiracy surrounding the Flying Dutchman's curse. Along with Sandy and Patrick, I believe Squidward Tentacles, Dr. Forrest of Bikini Bottom General and Sheldon J. Plankton to be involved in this conspiracy, among others.

How my life could have become like this, I do not know. To whoever finds this note, please uncover the truth. That is all I ask.

Spongebob Squarepants."'

* * *

Are you… truly alone?

Are you… truly here?

Are you… truly yourself?

Or are you… something far more terrible?

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part One: Six

Can you believe?

* * *

I can't believe I'm still writing this story. The next arc will be completely different to the Higurashi version, as stated at the beginning; therefore, I won't be including possibly the best Higurashi arc (Meakashi-hen). Good job, me. Please read it anyway, my self-esteem needs the boost. Reviews continue to be welcome, although I don't actually have any yet.


	5. Three - Six

Re-uploading this because I only just realised to include some rather important stuff.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Two – Five

* * *

Spongebob's eyes sprang open. Carnival time! Man, was he looking forward to this. He glanced at the clock. Darn it, it was five o'clock again! He listened carefully. Yes, there was the telltale sound of chirping. The scallops' cries had roused him once again. However, he had no issue with this today. Why? Because he was going to the carni-carni-carnival!

He leaped from his bed and grabbed his stuffed weights. Why he needed to strength train for a carnival was anyone's guess, but he still relentlessly hoisted the stuffed animals into the air until sweat was pouring down his bright red face. He set them down. He was ready. For something.

He ran from his house, ready to call Patrick's name until he had roused his friend, but Patrick had already emerged and was running to him. Incapable of stopping, both morons crashed into each other, sending them tumbling to the ground. Patrick sat up first.

"Spongebob! Get out of bed! We're going to the carni-carni-carnival!"

Spongebob sat up, rubbing his head.

"Thanks, Patrick."

"Did you get me a present?" asked Patrick excitedly.

"Of course I did!" replied Spongebob, grinning at the thought of giving it to Patrick later.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" cried Patrick.

Spongebob shook his head.

"Sorry, Patrick, you've got to wait until the carnival!"

"Oh, tartar sauce," pouted Patrick.

"What? That's not what I got you!"

A window opened above their heads.

"Will you two barnacle-heads keep it down?! It's half five!" screamed a certain angry octopus.

Spongebob cringed guiltily. He hadn't even noticed that they were right in front of Squidward's house.

Patrick stood up, smiling as happily and gormlessly as ever.

"Hey, Squidward! Are you going to the carni-carni-carnival too?"

Spongebob glared.

"No, I am not going to your stupid cursed carnival!"

"Aw, why not?" asked Spongebob, also standing.

Squidward was silent for a moment.

"Er… I hate the noise, and the crowds. They're annoying."

Spongebob moaned.

"Come on, Squidward, it'll be fun! You and me, we can go shooting coconuts and riding the Ferris wheel!"

"What about me?" whined Patrick.

Spongebob laughed.

"Of course, you can come too, buddy."

"Allow me to refuse your oh-so-generous offer!" yelled Squidward. "Now shut up and go away!"

And with that charming farewell, he slammed the window shut.

"Come on, Spongebob! We'll go! Get your things and we can go to the carni-carni-carnival!"

Spongebob hurried back to his house and grabbed his coat and shoes. After a moment's thought, he put the coat back. Even if he would be out in the middle of the night, it was late June. He had no need of warm clothing.

Gary scuttled over.

"Meow," he whined.

"Not now, Gary! I'm going to the carni-carni-carnival!" scolded Spongebob, tugging on his shoes and doing them up according to the song the very snail he had just scolded had taught him. He grabbed Patrick's firmly-wrapped present from the mantle and hurried out of the door to where Patrick was waiting, wearing a hat.

"What do you need the ushanka for?" he inquired curiously.

"It's my special crown! It keeps me cool in summer!" Patrick announced grandly and most proudly.

Spongebob raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Some people were somewhat eccentric and simple, but they tended to be the nicest people in the world. He could never think badly of Patrick and he most certainly could not criticise him.

"Come on, Spongebob! Let's go!"

The pair of them skipped away, singing their happy song about going to the carni-carni-carnival. It made sense for them to skip, as skipping is a very efficient means of non-vehicular transportation, due to being almost as fast as sprinting and using barely more energy than slowly walking. Why doesn't everybody skip everywhere?

* * *

It was the most fun he'd ever had at a carnival in his life, Spongebob decided. That was saying something. He and Patrick had spent the entire day at the carnival. Patrick had been delighted with his Jeffrey Jellyfish toy and Spongebob similarly pleased with his homemade backscratcher. The pair of them had been to almost every attraction the people of Bikini Bottom had to offer. Both of them had loved the Ferris wheel and the Hall of Mirrors. The Ghost Train had terrified them both and the subsequent kids' rollercoaster had driven them to their wits' ends, but at least the adrenaline made them worth it. Spongebob had uneasily steered clear of watching the man swallowing fire and Patrick had begged that they stay away from the slightly nightmarish clowns.

As the pair of them wolfed down candyfloss, also known as cotton candy, Patrick observed that Sandy did not appear to be present.

"Yeah, she's probably working with her new clear radiation," said Spongebob, attempting to sound clever through the use of long words.

"What's she doing with her nuclear radiation?" asked Patrick. Spongebob inwardly scowled at Patrick's evident knowledge of what the hell new clear meant.

"Oh, she's testing small organisms by shooting rays of alfalfa particles at them. It lets her know whether it's safe for the goddamn Americans to do new clear stuff in America."

Patrick nodded earnestly.

"I see."

All of a sudden, a hulking, burly lobster with rippling muscles and a shining beam appeared right next to them.

"Oops! Sorry, fellas! Happy Dutchnight!"

"Hey there!" replied Spongebob, eager to make new friends. "What's your name?"

"I'm Larry the Lobster!" Larry the Lobster replied. "I'm a lobster!"

"Great to meet you, Larry!" replied Spongebob, while Patrick wondered why everyone was replying whenever they spoke.

"And I'm Sadie Rechid, Larry's date," came a smooth female voice from behind Larry. Spongebob's friend Sadie, a single woman in her mid-thirties, stepped into view, smiling.

"Hey, Sadie! How are you? Wait a second, _date_?!"

Sadie laughed.

"I'm fine, thanks, Spongebob. Yes, I'm here on a date with Larry. We've been together for several months now. He just moved from another state."

Larry blushed, an unusual sight for such a big and imposing figure.

"I just kind of got lucky meeting you, didn't I?"

Sadie touched his shoulder affectionately, though how a simple touch can be done affectionately I do not understand.

"And I you, Larry."

"Weird sentences aside, that's great, Sadie! You deserve a good relationship after all these years of hard work alone!"

Tact had never been Spongebob's strong point, so Sadie took it in her stride.

"Sadie works?!" asked Patrick, slightly shocked.

A vein pulsed slightly in Sadie's temple, but she kept her smile as she replied,

"Yes, Patrick. I work as a nurse in Bikini Bottom General Hospital. I seem to recall helping treat you more than once after stupid accidents of your own design."

The veiled insult naturally flew over Patrick's head, but Larry nudged her.

"Try and be nice, honey."

"I am," Sadie smiled at him.

Spongebob and Patrick were oblivious to this exchange.

"So, where are Sandy and Squidward? It can't just be you two, can it?" Sadie asked, still smiling.

"Sandy's got work to do. Squidward didn't want to come. You know what he's like; he's not big on crowds and noise."

Sadie's smile curled into a slight smirk.

"Hm. Yes, Squidward has never been the sociable type. But perhaps that's not his reasoning for avoiding the fun?"

Spongebob frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He failed to notice that Patrick's brow had lowered further than he'd ever seen it.

Sadie, it seemed, had also failed to notice, or perhaps simply ignored it, and continued.

"Well, perhaps he stayed at home out of fear."

Spongebob was totally thrown by this statement. Fear? What could Squidward be afraid of, and what could the carnival have to do with it?

"F-Fear of what?" he asked tentatively. Something about the atmosphere around them, previously so jolly, had turned worryingly grim. The air suddenly seemed somewhat colder. Spongebob began to wish he had brought his coat, and that he had kept his mouth shut.

"Fear of becoming the next murder victim, of course."

Patrick cut in.

"Come on, Spongebob, let's go play some more! I wanna shoot coconuts now!"

Spongebob shrugged him off.

"Murder victim?!"

Sadie's gaze, which had turned very hard and piercing, suddenly softened.

"Of course, I'd forgotten that you only moved here recently, Spongebob. You don't know about the annual Dutchnight murders."

Patrick's expression was stony. Larry looked uncomfortable.

"Sadie… this is supposed to be a fun night. Let's forget about all that for now and have fun."

Sadie shrugged off Larry's claw from her shoulder.

"You want me to forget about it on tonight of all nights? Besides, I'm sure Spongebob wants and has a right to know. Right, Spongebob?"

Spongebob nodded, throat dry. How could murders have occurred in Bikini Bottom without his knowledge?!

Sadie cleared her throat.

"Every year for the past four years, a murder has occurred on the night of Dutchnight. The story of these murders has its origin in the War of Unification. I trust that you know about Bikini Bottom's role in the war?"

Spongebob nodded. Who in Panmarin didn't know?

"This naturally meant that the government in Shell City were greatly concerned about the future of Bikini Bottom. After Old Man Jenkins became a senator, the government became straight up paranoid, and very openly so. Eventually, a leading senator by the name of Professor Percy – who was actually a chimp from America, by the way – proposed a plan to have the two superheroes living in Bikini Bottom, Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy, shrink the entire city to the point that it could be contained within a fish bowl. This way, the city could be kept under Shell City's thumb without any people getting hurt. However, this information was leaked to Perch Perkins, probably by one of the senators opposed to the plan, who reported it to the whole city. There were riots, there were protests, and there were sit-ins and boycotts and negotiations. There was even the odd terrorist attack. It almost escalated to the point of all-out war more than once."

Spongebob recalled vague memories in his youth of hearing about trouble in Bikini Bottom.

"However, there were certain members of the public of Bikini Bottom who were not so opposed to the Plan. Many viewed it as a sensible alternative to another actual war. These people organised themselves into a faction trying to persuade the people to accept the Plan. This group was, of course, widely despised."

Spongebob had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Were you… part of that faction?"

Sadie nodded.

"I was. My husband Fred was the leader."

Spongebob was thrown by the news that Sadie had a husband. Then he put two and two together, combining this new knowledge with Sadie's mention of murders. Logic!

He gasped.

"Eureka!"

She smiled sadly.

"Yes. Fred was a very brave and generally wonderful man, but he was raised to always fight for what he believed in. It was a sensible message, but in the end it got him killed. I wonder if the one who taught him that doctrine feels any guilt, I wonder, I wonder?"

"W-What happened?" Spongebob asked hoarsely.

"On the night of Dutchnight, Fred and I decided to stay at home, considering our rather low popularity at the time. However, a group of junkyard workers, who presumably had been drinking and no doubt were greatly opposed to the Percy Plan, worked themselves into a great rage and broke into our house. They butchered Fred. They hacked off his legs with an enormous machete and left him to bleed to death. I still see him trying to crawl towards me, every time I close my eyes."

Larry was looking like he would much rather run away, right now. For the first time, Sadie had stopped smiling. Her eyes were closed and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"H-How did you escape?" Spongebob asked tentatively.

She was silent for several moments.

"I didn't. I still have the scars to prove it. But it seems they weren't all that interested in killing me. They were just mad, angry monsters."

"Were they caught?"

"All but one. One culprit is still on the run. The one that actually cut off Fred's legs while the others had their way with me."

Spongebob found himself unable to speak. How could something so terrible have happened in a city so seemingly perfect?

"But it continued. You see, Squidward Tentacles was also a supporter of the Percy Plan. He and Fred were quite good friends at one point. The following year, on the night of Dutchnight, Squidward's mother was murdered."

Spongebob gasped in horror.

"No culprit was ever found. They were apparently completely untraceable. This began the whispers of a curse."

"A… curse?" Spongebob whispered.

"You know about the Flying Dutchman, right? The spiritual demonic guardian of Bikini Bottom? Dutchnight is held in his honour. After the second murder of someone related to the Percy Plan, by a culprit who apparently left no trace, people began to wonder if there was a curse by the Dutchman against the enemies of Bikini Bottom. There was another murder the following year, which only increased the suspicion of a curse."

Something hit Spongebob like a ton of bricks. A realisation.

_26 June_,_ 1944_.

"Th-The third murder… who died?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Sadie looked concerned.

"I think… she may have been a relative of yours. Old Grandma Squarepants?"

Spongebob fell to the ground, despair flooding him. He'd never known that Grandma had been murdered. Perhaps that was a good thing. If he had, perhaps he wouldn't have recovered from his state after the news of her death. Perhaps things would have been even worse.

"Y-Yes. She… was my grandma."

Sadie looked remorseful.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Really."

Spongebob nodded, wiping away a tear and standing.

"Thank you. I- I suppose it's nothing compared to yours, is it?"

She smiled sadly again.

"All loss is painful. We can't be measuring losses against each other and saying, 'Yours isn't as bad as mine, so nobody should feel sorry for you'. Regardless of what your loss is, you deserve pity, and you have mine."

"Thank you," Spongebob smiled weakly through his freely-flowing tears.

"You know, there was a fourth murder, last year," Sadie continued. "Another octopus. This murder was a very bizarre one, compared to the others. The victim was the wife of a Senator, Squilliam Fancyson. He's an absolute dick and was actually against the Percy Plan and may have been the one who leaked the information about it to Perch Perkins. The murder of his wife therefore makes very little sense. What's more, a culprit was apprehended for this one, a local bully named Flatts, who was spirited away to Rock Bottom, the special prison for the worst criminals, or the ones the police want to hide. My guess is that they just arrested him to make it look like they had some kind of control of the situation, rather than being powerless to stop murders happening and culprits escaping every year. That's why they shut him away out of reach; they don't want the truth getting out. However, we still have no explanation for the murder of someone who was against the Percy Plan."

Spongebob was reeling from everything he had been told. It was all too much. The day had started out so well, too.

"I wonder who will die tonight?" Sadie wondered. "Squidward should know better than to think hiding at home will save him. He'd be safer here, among the crowds. Assuming, of course, that the next victim will be him, which I hope it won't be."

Spongebob was horrified by the very thought.

"How do you know a murder will take place at all?!"

Sadie smiled wryly.

"Of course, it would be excellent if nobody died and this curse nonsense stopped once and for all. But you know, patterns are hard to escape, especially when they're entirely beyond our control."

Spongebob was terrified. He came from another state. Would that make him an enemy of Bikini Bottom? What if he was targeted next?!

Patrick grabbed his arm. Spongebob jumped. He'd forgotten Patrick was even there, that a link to his normal happy reality still existed for him to fall back on.

"Come on, Spongebob, that's enough depressing talk! Let's go play some more!"

Spongebob could not deny that he was only to glad to escape the morbid mood.

"Have fun, Spongebob!" waved Sadie, smiling as he was pulled away. However, he now knew just how fake that smile was; it was nothing more than a mask.

* * *

The playing continued. They danced, they sang and they ate. Both of them devoured great quantities of ice cream between them and they had great fun trying to catch ducks with the little hook thing on the end of the long stick. Patrick succeeded and received and enormous stuffed bear as a prize, which he most imaginatively named 'Beary'. However, as much as he played and enjoyed himself, Spongebob constantly felt that the mood was dampened too severely by Sadie's words, which echoed constantly around his head. One phrase in particular was constantly being replayed in his mind.

_I wonder who will die tonight_?

It was a good question, but not one he wanted to have an answer.

They met up with Mr. Krabs and began shooting coconuts. Mr. Krabs was a great sport and did not boast too much about utterly thrashing Spongebob in their competition. When Patrick had stepped up for a go, he decided that he simply couldn't leave this problem alone.

He slipped away into the crowds with a fond look at Patrick and Mr. Krabs barking with laughter as Patrick hit the wrong coconut entirely. As he moved through the throng, a delightful word indeed, he was ever on the lookout for the obvious sight of an enormous crustacean. He passed Mrs. Puff, who appeared not to notice his greeting, and found Tom Smith, a friend of Sadie's.

"Hey Tom," he said. "You haven't seen Sadie anywhere, have you?"

Tom looked upwards in thought.

"Hmm… I think I saw her going in the direction of the Dutchman's shrine with her boyfriend about 10 minutes ago. Why?"

Spongebob did not answer, instead hurrying past the confused fish to the nearby signpost. The sign told him to follow a small winding path that went a short way from the main carnival. The walk quickly became very dark, worrying Spongebob slightly. He realised that he had entered an extension of the massive sprawl of the Kelp Forest that bordered Bikini Bottom. He glanced around nervously, trying to peer between the thick tangles of kelp in the hope that he could spot any mysterious predators before they could leap out at him. The darkness was oppressive and felt to Spongebob as though it were constricting his chest. He began to run, panting slightly, terrified that the menacing seaweed would suddenly lash out and ensnare him, wrapping itself around his soft spongy body and crushing the life out of him and then pulling his lifeless corpse, as opposed to a living corpse, into the darkness, never to be found except by weird and vicious predators of the deep which would feast on his yellow flesh and crunch his lack of bones to pieces until the end of time, or until they died, or until his body was all gone, or until they were full, or more than one of the above.

Spongebob burst out into a clearing that was filled with glaring, white, artificial lights. He blinked several times and squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand. In the centre of the clearing stood a building hewn, another lovely word, from a rough, solid, almost black rock that he didn't recognise. He took a few steps forward.

"Ah, Spongebob. Surely you're not back for more depressing stories?" said a voice from behind him with an edge of laughter in it.

Spongebob jumped ten feet into the water.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed in an unnaturally high pitch, earning him several disapproving scowls from elderly citizens who were stood by the rock.

Sadie chuckled.

"Sorry, Spongebob. I didn't mean to scare you there."

Spongebob took a few deep breaths. Larry smiled awkwardly at him. Sadie was smiling properly again, her eyes alight with real enjoyment and reflections of the bright lights around them.

"What brings you to the shrine of the Dutchman?" asked Sadie, leading him forward towards the grim pavilion. "It's a fascinating building, you know. There isn't an inside, it's just a rock carved in the shape of a temple. I believe it's modelled on the ancient temples and shrines of the humans in East Asia, the Chinese and Japanese and so forth."

Spongebob scratched his head awkwardly.

"I don't really know much about human cultures other than American, the one that's been forced on us. You see, I actually came to talk about-"

Sadie cut him off.

"Did you perhaps come to pay respects to your grandmother?"

Spongebob blinked in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Didn't you know? Your grandmother used to run this shrine. She was a devout priestess of the Dutchman religion."

Spongebob thought.

"I do remember that she was very religious…"

Sadie continued.

"This shrine has a rather bloody history, from what I hear. It used to be used for sacrifices, apparently; sacrifices of fish and other inhabitants of the old Bikini Bottom area, before there was actually a Bikini Bottom, back when the only uniting factor among the inhabitants of this area was the worship of this strange and vengeful creature, the ghost of the Flying Dutchman."

Spongebob was becoming uneasy. Sadie was still talking, with a fire in her eyes. It was impossible to try and butt in.

"Legend has it that in the sixteenth century, a Dutch ship travelling to Japan sank in the Pacific. A pirate had stowed away on board and felt it his duty as a bloodthirsty corsair with no motivations or future to send the ship to the bottom of the ocean. He went with it, of course. The fish living in the area found only one body on the craft, that of the pirate. They all collaborated to attempt to wake him, not realising that the man was long dead. The ghost of the man is said to have cursed those fish and all of their descendants to eternal servitude to him, as a means of thanks. This put the spirit in the role of protector as well as master of the area. He will not forgive those who attempt to leave Bikini Bottom, nor will he forgive those who try to bring harm to it. Any enemies of Bikini Bottom are enemies of the Dutchman."

The hidden meaning of the words was not lost on Spongebob. Could Sadie really be blaming the Flying Dutchman for all of the awful murders?

"The name 'Flying Dutchman' is actually believed to have been the name of the ship that sank, and the position of this shrine is believed to be where it sank. There is also one detail about the curse that I haven't mentioned; the religion of the Dutchman believes in reincarnation, and it is said that the curse will be lifted when the Dutchman is reincarnated."

Sadie smiled broadly, the harsh white lights dancing in her eyes.

"It's a very interesting story, really, although it is most likely a load of nonsense. I wouldn't say that to the Bikini Bottomites though; they take the matter very seriously. Most likely they would still be willing to cut fish into little pieces on this lump of rock if they thought that the Dutchman had commanded it."

Spongebob gasped.

"Yes, that was the old method of sacrifice. Perhaps the Dutchman didn't have much in the way of teeth. I don't really know. It doesn't make that much difference really, does it?"

She laughed airily. Spongebob felt somewhat uneasy in her presence. She was so different to how she'd been earlier, when she was sadly telling the tale of the murders with tears in her eyes. Perhaps it was just a defensive mechanism. All the same, Spongebob would most definitely like to ask her his question and get the hell out of there.

"Sadie, you asked earlier who you thought would die tonight."

She sobered up immediately. He cringed. Maybe he shouldn't have reminded her. She stayed silent for a moment then drew a heavy breath.

"Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I?"

She stared back at the shrine for a minute.

Spongebob took a deep breath.

"You seemed so sure that there would be a murder, but you just said that you thought that the Flying Dutchman was probably nonsense. In that case, why do you think there will be a murder? Do you believe there's a curse?"

Larry looked at Sadie uneasily. She thought for a moment.

"Perhaps… there is a curse… of sorts. But perhaps… it's not supernatural at all."

Spongebob was confused.

"What do you mean?"

He cowered under Sadie's piercing stare, suddenly directed at him for the first time.

"I mean… maybe the culprit is nothing more than a creature among us."

Spongebob gulped.

"You think… all of these murders… have a Bikini Bottomite behind them?"

She laughed without a trace of humour.

"I'm not pointing any fingers, Spongebob. I'm just thinking realistically. Don't expect me to try hunting down killers."

She gave him an odd stare.

"What work is Sandy doing, anyway?"

Spongebob was taken aback by the question.

"Er… It's something to do with testing new clear radiation."

Sadie laughed.

"Well, that sounds far too complicated for me."

She waved.

"I think we ought to be heading home now, right Larry?"

Larry, who had been stood silently beside her, started at the sound of his name and nodded.

"Goodnight, Spongebob!" Sadie called over her shoulder as they disappeared into the darkness of the forest. He waved back.

"Goodnight," he called back, his voice catching in his throat. He took one last lingering look at the ominous rock behind him and ran back into the forest, desperate to return to a less grim atmosphere.

* * *

"Hey Patrick," he said, stopping by his chubby pink friend as he caught his breath. "I think I'm gonna go home now; I'm pretty tired."

"OK!" beamed Patrick, his spirits never dampened. "I think I'm gonna stay and play a while longer; have a nice night! I really wanna get a toy on this stupid crane thing."

He glared at the offensive arcade game.

"Remember what I told you, Patrick," said Spongebob, patting him on the back. "Just close your eyes and be the crane. Goodnight, buddy."

Spongebob walked away.

Long after the happy and comforting sounds of the carnival had faded into the distance, Spongebob reached his beloved pineapple. Truth be told, he was overjoyed to see it; the whole journey had been spent with Sadie's ominous words echoing in his head and he had been twitching with paranoia all the way. He rummaged around in his improbably large pockets for the key and pulled it out. As he made to place it in the keyhole, however, he heard a noise.

He froze.

"Wh-Who's there?" he called.

There was movement in the shadows beside the house. Somebody was waiting for him. Inwardly, he screamed, but his body was frozen with fright. Surely he wouldn't be the victim?! He'd done nothing wrong!

The figure emerged from the shadows.

It was Sandy.

But it was not Sandy as he'd ever seen her before. Her suit was battered and dirty. Her face was adorned with bruises and blood; one of her eyes was blackened. Spongebob hurried forwards.

Her mouth cracked open and a thin hiss escaped.

"They're back."

Then she collapsed. Spongebob lunged forwards to catch her. He looked frantically around. There was nobody nearby but Squidward, who would be asleep. He stiffened his resolve and, struggling and strained, dragged her inside, thanking whatever deity actually existed that he'd decided to lift weights that morning.

Meanwhile, not too far away, a lone shadowy figure crawled over the lip of a deep, pitch-black pit, with only one thought occupying their mind.

Murder.

The storm had come.

* * *

Please believe… my heartfelt words.

Do not believe… their heartfelt words.

Trust only… in me.

I… am all you can rely on.

I am… your one true friend.

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part Three: Four

Can you believe?


	6. Three - Five

Re-uploading this because I only just realised to include some rather important stuff.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Two – Five

Spongebob's eyes sprang open. Carnival time! Man, was he looking forward to this. He glanced at the clock. Darn it, it was five o'clock again! He listened carefully. Yes, there was the telltale sound of chirping. The scallops' cries had roused him once again. However, he had no issue with this today. Why? Because he was going to the carni-carni-carnival!

He leaped from his bed and grabbed his stuffed weights. Why he needed to strength train for a carnival was anyone's guess, but he still relentlessly hoisted the stuffed animals into the air until sweat was pouring down his bright red face. He set them down. He was ready. For something.

He ran from his house, ready to call Patrick's name until he had roused his friend, but Patrick had already emerged and was running to him. Incapable of stopping, both morons crashed into each other, sending them tumbling to the ground. Patrick sat up first.

"Spongebob! Get out of bed! We're going to the carni-carni-carnival!"

Spongebob sat up, rubbing his head.

"Thanks, Patrick."

"Did you get me a present?" asked Patrick excitedly.

"Of course I did!" replied Spongebob, grinning at the thought of giving it to Patrick later.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" cried Patrick.

Spongebob shook his head.

"Sorry, Patrick, you've got to wait until the carnival!"

"Oh, tartar sauce," pouted Patrick.

"What? That's not what I got you!"

A window opened above their heads.

"Will you two barnacle-heads keep it down?! It's half five!" screamed a certain angry octopus.

Spongebob cringed guiltily. He hadn't even noticed that they were right in front of Squidward's house.

Patrick stood up, smiling as happily and gormlessly as ever.

"Hey, Squidward! Are you going to the carni-carni-carnival too?"

Spongebob glared.

"No, I am not going to your stupid cursed carnival!"

"Aw, why not?" asked Spongebob, also standing.

Squidward was silent for a moment.

"Er… I hate the noise, and the crowds. They're annoying."

Spongebob moaned.

"Come on, Squidward, it'll be fun! You and me, we can go shooting coconuts and riding the Ferris wheel!"

"What about me?" whined Patrick.

Spongebob laughed.

"Of course, you can come too, buddy."

"Allow me to refuse your oh-so-generous offer!" yelled Squidward. "Now shut up and go away!"

And with that charming farewell, he slammed the window shut.

"Come on, Spongebob! We'll go! Get your things and we can go to the carni-carni-carnival!"

Spongebob hurried back to his house and grabbed his coat and shoes. After a moment's thought, he put the coat back. Even if he would be out in the middle of the night, it was late June. He had no need of warm clothing.

Gary scuttled over.

"Meow," he whined.

"Not now, Gary! I'm going to the carni-carni-carnival!" scolded Spongebob, tugging on his shoes and doing them up according to the song the very snail he had just scolded had taught him. He grabbed Patrick's firmly-wrapped present from the mantle and hurried out of the door to where Patrick was waiting, wearing a hat.

"What do you need the ushanka for?" he inquired curiously.

"It's my special crown! It keeps me cool in summer!" Patrick announced grandly and most proudly.

Spongebob raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Some people were somewhat eccentric and simple, but they tended to be the nicest people in the world. He could never think badly of Patrick and he most certainly could not criticise him.

"Come on, Spongebob! Let's go!"

The pair of them skipped away, singing their happy song about going to the carni-carni-carnival. It made sense for them to skip, as skipping is a very efficient means of non-vehicular transportation, due to being almost as fast as sprinting and using barely more energy than slowly walking. Why doesn't everybody skip everywhere?

It was the most fun he'd ever had at a carnival in his life, Spongebob decided. That was saying something. He and Patrick had spent the entire day at the carnival. Patrick had been delighted with his Jeffrey Jellyfish toy and Spongebob similarly pleased with his homemade backscratcher. The pair of them had been to almost every attraction the people of Bikini Bottom had to offer. Both of them had loved the Ferris wheel and the Hall of Mirrors. The Ghost Train had terrified them both and the subsequent kids' rollercoaster had driven them to their wits' ends, but at least the adrenaline made them worth it. Spongebob had uneasily steered clear of watching the man swallowing fire and Patrick had begged that they stay away from the slightly nightmarish clowns.

As the pair of them wolfed down candyfloss, also known as cotton candy, Patrick observed that Sandy did not appear to be present.

"Yeah, she's probably working with her new clear radiation," said Spongebob, attempting to sound clever through the use of long words.

"What's she doing with her nuclear radiation?" asked Patrick. Spongebob inwardly scowled at Patrick's evident knowledge of what the hell new clear meant.

"Oh, she's testing small organisms by shooting rays of alfalfa particles at them. It lets her know whether it's safe for the goddamn Americans to do new clear stuff in America."

Patrick nodded earnestly.

"I see."

All of a sudden, a hulking, burly lobster with rippling muscles and a shining beam appeared right next to them.

"Oops! Sorry, fellas! Happy Dutchnight!"

"Hey there!" replied Spongebob, eager to make new friends. "What's your name?"

"I'm Larry the Lobster!" Larry the Lobster replied. "I'm a lobster!"

"Great to meet you, Larry!" replied Spongebob, while Patrick wondered why everyone was replying whenever they spoke.

"And I'm Sadie Rechid, Larry's date," came a smooth female voice from behind Larry. Spongebob's friend Sadie, a single woman in her mid-thirties, stepped into view, smiling.

"Hey, Sadie! How are you? Wait a second, _date_?!"

Sadie laughed.

"I'm fine, thanks, Spongebob. Yes, I'm here on a date with Larry. We've been together for several months now. He just moved from another state."

Larry blushed, an unusual sight for such a big and imposing figure.

"I just kind of got lucky meeting you, didn't I?"

Sadie touched his shoulder affectionately, though how a simple touch can be done affectionately I do not understand.

"And I you, Larry."

"Weird sentences aside, that's great, Sadie! You deserve a good relationship after all these years of hard work alone!"

Tact had never been Spongebob's strong point, so Sadie took it in her stride.

"Sadie works?!" asked Patrick, slightly shocked.

A vein pulsed slightly in Sadie's temple, but she kept her smile as she replied,

"Yes, Patrick. I work as a nurse in Bikini Bottom General Hospital. I seem to recall helping treat you more than once after stupid accidents of your own design."

The veiled insult naturally flew over Patrick's head, but Larry nudged her.

"Try and be nice, honey."

"I am," Sadie smiled at him.

Spongebob and Patrick were oblivious to this exchange.

"So, where are Sandy and Squidward? It can't just be you two, can it?" Sadie asked, still smiling.

"Sandy's got work to do. Squidward didn't want to come. You know what he's like; he's not big on crowds and noise."

Sadie's smile curled into a slight smirk.

"Hm. Yes, Squidward has never been the sociable type. But perhaps that's not his reasoning for avoiding the fun?"

Spongebob frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked. He failed to notice that Patrick's brow had lowered further than he'd ever seen it.

Sadie, it seemed, had also failed to notice, or perhaps simply ignored it, and continued.

"Well, perhaps he stayed at home out of fear."

Spongebob was totally thrown by this statement. Fear? What could Squidward be afraid of, and what could the carnival have to do with it?

"F-Fear of what?" he asked tentatively. Something about the atmosphere around them, previously so jolly, had turned worryingly grim. The air suddenly seemed somewhat colder. Spongebob began to wish he had brought his coat, and that he had kept his mouth shut.

"Fear of becoming the next murder victim, of course."

Patrick cut in.

"Come on, Spongebob, let's go play some more! I wanna shoot coconuts now!"

Spongebob shrugged him off.

"Murder victim?!"

Sadie's gaze, which had turned very hard and piercing, suddenly softened.

"Of course, I'd forgotten that you only moved here recently, Spongebob. You don't know about the annual Dutchnight murders."

Patrick's expression was stony. Larry looked uncomfortable.

"Sadie… this is supposed to be a fun night. Let's forget about all that for now and have fun."

Sadie shrugged off Larry's claw from her shoulder.

"You want me to forget about it on tonight of all nights? Besides, I'm sure Spongebob wants and has a right to know. Right, Spongebob?"

Spongebob nodded, throat dry. How could murders have occurred in Bikini Bottom without his knowledge?!

Sadie cleared her throat.

"Every year for the past four years, a murder has occurred on the night of Dutchnight. The story of these murders has its origin in the War of Unification. I trust that you know about Bikini Bottom's role in the war?"

Spongebob nodded. Who in Panmarin didn't know?

"This naturally meant that the government in Shell City were greatly concerned about the future of Bikini Bottom. After Old Man Jenkins became a senator, the government became straight up paranoid, and very openly so. Eventually, a leading senator by the name of Professor Percy – who was actually a chimp from America, by the way – proposed a plan to have the two superheroes living in Bikini Bottom, Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy, shrink the entire city to the point that it could be contained within a fish bowl. This way, the city could be kept under Shell City's thumb without any people getting hurt. However, this information was leaked to Perch Perkins, probably by one of the senators opposed to the plan, who reported it to the whole city. There were riots, there were protests, and there were sit-ins and boycotts and negotiations. There was even the odd terrorist attack. It almost escalated to the point of all-out war more than once."

Spongebob recalled vague memories in his youth of hearing about trouble in Bikini Bottom.

"However, there were certain members of the public of Bikini Bottom who were not so opposed to the Plan. Many viewed it as a sensible alternative to another actual war. These people organised themselves into a faction trying to persuade the people to accept the Plan. This group was, of course, widely despised."

Spongebob had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Were you… part of that faction?"

Sadie nodded.

"I was. My husband Fred was the leader."

Spongebob was thrown by the news that Sadie had a husband. Then he put two and two together, combining this new knowledge with Sadie's mention of murders. Logic!

He gasped.

"Eureka!"

She smiled sadly.

"Yes. Fred was a very brave and generally wonderful man, but he was raised to always fight for what he believed in. It was a sensible message, but in the end it got him killed. I wonder if the one who taught him that doctrine feels any guilt, I wonder, I wonder?"

"W-What happened?" Spongebob asked hoarsely.

"On the night of Dutchnight, Fred and I decided to stay at home, considering our rather low popularity at the time. However, a group of junkyard workers, who presumably had been drinking and no doubt were greatly opposed to the Percy Plan, worked themselves into a great rage and broke into our house. They butchered Fred. They hacked off his legs with an enormous machete and left him to bleed to death. I still see him trying to crawl towards me, every time I close my eyes."

Larry was looking like he would much rather run away, right now. For the first time, Sadie had stopped smiling. Her eyes were closed and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"H-How did you escape?" Spongebob asked tentatively.

She was silent for several moments.

"I didn't. I still have the scars to prove it. But it seems they weren't all that interested in killing me. They were just mad, angry monsters."

"Were they caught?"

"All but one. One culprit is still on the run. The one that actually cut off Fred's legs while the others had their way with me."

Spongebob found himself unable to speak. How could something so terrible have happened in a city so seemingly perfect?

"But it continued. You see, Squidward Tentacles was also a supporter of the Percy Plan. He and Fred were quite good friends at one point. The following year, on the night of Dutchnight, Squidward's mother was murdered."

Spongebob gasped in horror.

"No culprit was ever found. They were apparently completely untraceable. This began the whispers of a curse."

"A… curse?" Spongebob whispered.

"You know about the Flying Dutchman, right? The spiritual demonic guardian of Bikini Bottom? Dutchnight is held in his honour. After the second murder of someone related to the Percy Plan, by a culprit who apparently left no trace, people began to wonder if there was a curse by the Dutchman against the enemies of Bikini Bottom. There was another murder the following year, which only increased the suspicion of a curse."

Something hit Spongebob like a ton of bricks. A realisation.

_26 June_,_ 1944_.

"Th-The third murder… who died?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Sadie looked concerned.

"I think… she may have been a relative of yours. Old Grandma Squarepants?"

Spongebob fell to the ground, despair flooding him. He'd never known that Grandma had been murdered. Perhaps that was a good thing. If he had, perhaps he wouldn't have recovered from his state after the news of her death. Perhaps things would have been even worse.

"Y-Yes. She… was my grandma."

Sadie looked remorseful.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. Really."

Spongebob nodded, wiping away a tear and standing.

"Thank you. I- I suppose it's nothing compared to yours, is it?"

She smiled sadly again.

"All loss is painful. We can't be measuring losses against each other and saying, 'Yours isn't as bad as mine, so nobody should feel sorry for you'. Regardless of what your loss is, you deserve pity, and you have mine."

"Thank you," Spongebob smiled weakly through his freely-flowing tears.

"You know, there was a fourth murder, last year," Sadie continued. "Another octopus. This murder was a very bizarre one, compared to the others. The victim was the wife of a Senator, Squilliam Fancyson. He's an absolute dick and was actually against the Percy Plan and may have been the one who leaked the information about it to Perch Perkins. The murder of his wife therefore makes very little sense. What's more, a culprit was apprehended for this one, a local bully named Flatts, who was spirited away to Rock Bottom, the special prison for the worst criminals, or the ones the police want to hide. My guess is that they just arrested him to make it look like they had some kind of control of the situation, rather than being powerless to stop murders happening and culprits escaping every year. That's why they shut him away out of reach; they don't want the truth getting out. However, we still have no explanation for the murder of someone who was against the Percy Plan."

Spongebob was reeling from everything he had been told. It was all too much. The day had started out so well, too.

"I wonder who will die tonight?" Sadie wondered. "Squidward should know better than to think hiding at home will save him. He'd be safer here, among the crowds. Assuming, of course, that the next victim will be him, which I hope it won't be."

Spongebob was horrified by the very thought.

"How do you know a murder will take place at all?!"

Sadie smiled wryly.

"Of course, it would be excellent if nobody died and this curse nonsense stopped once and for all. But you know, patterns are hard to escape, especially when they're entirely beyond our control."

Spongebob was terrified. He came from another state. Would that make him an enemy of Bikini Bottom? What if he was targeted next?!

Patrick grabbed his arm. Spongebob jumped. He'd forgotten Patrick was even there, that a link to his normal happy reality still existed for him to fall back on.

"Come on, Spongebob, that's enough depressing talk! Let's go play some more!"

Spongebob could not deny that he was only to glad to escape the morbid mood.

"Have fun, Spongebob!" waved Sadie, smiling as he was pulled away. However, he now knew just how fake that smile was; it was nothing more than a mask.

The playing continued. They danced, they sang and they ate. Both of them devoured great quantities of ice cream between them and they had great fun trying to catch ducks with the little hook thing on the end of the long stick. Patrick succeeded and received and enormous stuffed bear as a prize, which he most imaginatively named 'Beary'. However, as much as he played and enjoyed himself, Spongebob constantly felt that the mood was dampened too severely by Sadie's words, which echoed constantly around his head. One phrase in particular was constantly being replayed in his mind.

_I wonder who will die tonight_?

It was a good question, but not one he wanted to have an answer.

They met up with Mr. Krabs and began shooting coconuts. Mr. Krabs was a great sport and did not boast too much about utterly thrashing Spongebob in their competition. When Patrick had stepped up for a go, he decided that he simply couldn't leave this problem alone.

He slipped away into the crowds with a fond look at Patrick and Mr. Krabs barking with laughter as Patrick hit the wrong coconut entirely. As he moved through the throng, a delightful word indeed, he was ever on the lookout for the obvious sight of an enormous crustacean. He passed Mrs. Puff, who appeared not to notice his greeting, and found Tom Smith, a friend of Sadie's.

"Hey Tom," he said. "You haven't seen Sadie anywhere, have you?"

Tom looked upwards in thought.

"Hmm… I think I saw her going in the direction of the Dutchman's shrine with her boyfriend about 10 minutes ago. Why?"

Spongebob did not answer, instead hurrying past the confused fish to the nearby signpost. The sign told him to follow a small winding path that went a short way from the main carnival. The walk quickly became very dark, worrying Spongebob slightly. He realised that he had entered an extension of the massive sprawl of the Kelp Forest that bordered Bikini Bottom. He glanced around nervously, trying to peer between the thick tangles of kelp in the hope that he could spot any mysterious predators before they could leap out at him. The darkness was oppressive and felt to Spongebob as though it were constricting his chest. He began to run, panting slightly, terrified that the menacing seaweed would suddenly lash out and ensnare him, wrapping itself around his soft spongy body and crushing the life out of him and then pulling his lifeless corpse, as opposed to a living corpse, into the darkness, never to be found except by weird and vicious predators of the deep which would feast on his yellow flesh and crunch his lack of bones to pieces until the end of time, or until they died, or until his body was all gone, or until they were full, or more than one of the above.

Spongebob burst out into a clearing that was filled with glaring, white, artificial lights. He blinked several times and squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand. In the centre of the clearing stood a building hewn, another lovely word, from a rough, solid, almost black rock that he didn't recognise. He took a few steps forward.

"Ah, Spongebob. Surely you're not back for more depressing stories?" said a voice from behind him with an edge of laughter in it.

Spongebob jumped ten feet into the water.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed in an unnaturally high pitch, earning him several disapproving scowls from elderly citizens who were stood by the rock.

Sadie chuckled.

"Sorry, Spongebob. I didn't mean to scare you there."

Spongebob took a few deep breaths. Larry smiled awkwardly at him. Sadie was smiling properly again, her eyes alight with real enjoyment and reflections of the bright lights around them.

"What brings you to the shrine of the Dutchman?" asked Sadie, leading him forward towards the grim pavilion. "It's a fascinating building, you know. There isn't an inside, it's just a rock carved in the shape of a temple. I believe it's modelled on the ancient temples and shrines of the humans in East Asia, the Chinese and Japanese and so forth."

Spongebob scratched his head awkwardly.

"I don't really know much about human cultures other than American, the one that's been forced on us. You see, I actually came to talk about-"

Sadie cut him off.

"Did you perhaps come to pay respects to your grandmother?"

Spongebob blinked in surprise.

"Huh?"

"Didn't you know? Your grandmother used to run this shrine. She was a devout priestess of the Dutchman religion."

Spongebob thought.

"I do remember that she was very religious…"

Sadie continued.

"This shrine has a rather bloody history, from what I hear. It used to be used for sacrifices, apparently; sacrifices of fish and other inhabitants of the old Bikini Bottom area, before there was actually a Bikini Bottom, back when the only uniting factor among the inhabitants of this area was the worship of this strange and vengeful creature, the ghost of the Flying Dutchman."

Spongebob was becoming uneasy. Sadie was still talking, with a fire in her eyes. It was impossible to try and butt in.

"Legend has it that in the sixteenth century, a Dutch ship travelling to Japan sank in the Pacific. A pirate had stowed away on board and felt it his duty as a bloodthirsty corsair with no motivations or future to send the ship to the bottom of the ocean. He went with it, of course. The fish living in the area found only one body on the craft, that of the pirate. They all collaborated to attempt to wake him, not realising that the man was long dead. The ghost of the man is said to have cursed those fish and all of their descendants to eternal servitude to him, as a means of thanks. This put the spirit in the role of protector as well as master of the area. He will not forgive those who attempt to leave Bikini Bottom, nor will he forgive those who try to bring harm to it. Any enemies of Bikini Bottom are enemies of the Dutchman."

The hidden meaning of the words was not lost on Spongebob. Could Sadie really be blaming the Flying Dutchman for all of the awful murders?

"The name 'Flying Dutchman' is actually believed to have been the name of the ship that sank, and the position of this shrine is believed to be where it sank. There is also one detail about the curse that I haven't mentioned; the religion of the Dutchman believes in reincarnation, and it is said that the curse will be lifted when the Dutchman is reincarnated."

Sadie smiled broadly, the harsh white lights dancing in her eyes.

"It's a very interesting story, really, although it is most likely a load of nonsense. I wouldn't say that to the Bikini Bottomites though; they take the matter very seriously. Most likely they would still be willing to cut fish into little pieces on this lump of rock if they thought that the Dutchman had commanded it."

Spongebob gasped.

"Yes, that was the old method of sacrifice. Perhaps the Dutchman didn't have much in the way of teeth. I don't really know. It doesn't make that much difference really, does it?"

She laughed airily. Spongebob felt somewhat uneasy in her presence. She was so different to how she'd been earlier, when she was sadly telling the tale of the murders with tears in her eyes. Perhaps it was just a defensive mechanism. All the same, Spongebob would most definitely like to ask her his question and get the hell out of there.

"Sadie, you asked earlier who you thought would die tonight."

She sobered up immediately. He cringed. Maybe he shouldn't have reminded her. She stayed silent for a moment then drew a heavy breath.

"Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I?"

She stared back at the shrine for a minute.

Spongebob took a deep breath.

"You seemed so sure that there would be a murder, but you just said that you thought that the Flying Dutchman was probably nonsense. In that case, why do you think there will be a murder? Do you believe there's a curse?"

Larry looked at Sadie uneasily. She thought for a moment.

"Perhaps… there is a curse… of sorts. But perhaps… it's not supernatural at all."

Spongebob was confused.

"What do you mean?"

He cowered under Sadie's piercing stare, suddenly directed at him for the first time.

"I mean… maybe the culprit is nothing more than a creature among us."

Spongebob gulped.

"You think… all of these murders… have a Bikini Bottomite behind them?"

She laughed without a trace of humour.

"I'm not pointing any fingers, Spongebob. I'm just thinking realistically. Don't expect me to try hunting down killers."

She gave him an odd stare.

"What work is Sandy doing, anyway?"

Spongebob was taken aback by the question.

"Er… It's something to do with testing new clear radiation."

Sadie laughed.

"Well, that sounds far too complicated for me."

She waved.

"I think we ought to be heading home now, right Larry?"

Larry, who had been stood silently beside her, started at the sound of his name and nodded.

"Goodnight, Spongebob!" Sadie called over her shoulder as they disappeared into the darkness of the forest. He waved back.

"Goodnight," he called back, his voice catching in his throat. He took one last lingering look at the ominous rock behind him and ran back into the forest, desperate to return to a less grim atmosphere.

"Hey Patrick," he said, stopping by his chubby pink friend as he caught his breath. "I think I'm gonna go home now; I'm pretty tired."

"OK!" beamed Patrick, his spirits never dampened. "I think I'm gonna stay and play a while longer; have a nice night! I really wanna get a toy on this stupid crane thing."

He glared at the offensive arcade game.

"Remember what I told you, Patrick," said Spongebob, patting him on the back. "Just close your eyes and be the crane. Goodnight, buddy."

Spongebob walked away.

Long after the happy and comforting sounds of the carnival had faded into the distance, Spongebob reached his beloved pineapple. Truth be told, he was overjoyed to see it; the whole journey had been spent with Sadie's ominous words echoing in his head and he had been twitching with paranoia all the way. He rummaged around in his improbably large pockets for the key and pulled it out. As he made to place it in the keyhole, however, he heard a noise.

He froze.

"Wh-Who's there?" he called.

There was movement in the shadows beside the house. Somebody was waiting for him. Inwardly, he screamed, but his body was frozen with fright. Surely he wouldn't be the victim?! He'd done nothing wrong!

The figure emerged from the shadows.

It was Sandy.

But it was not Sandy as he'd ever seen her before. Her suit was battered and dirty. Her face was adorned with bruises and blood; one of her eyes was blackened. Spongebob hurried forwards.

Her mouth cracked open and a thin hiss escaped.

"They're back."

Then she collapsed. Spongebob lunged forwards to catch her. He looked frantically around. There was nobody nearby but Squidward, who would be asleep. He stiffened his resolve and, struggling and strained, dragged her inside, thanking whatever deity actually existed that he'd decided to lift weights that morning.

Meanwhile, not too far away, a lone shadowy figure crawled over the lip of a deep, pitch-black pit, with only one thought occupying their mind.

Murder.

The storm had come.

Please believe… my heartfelt words.

Do not believe… their heartfelt words.

Trust only… in me.

I… am all you can rely on.

I am… your one true friend.

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part Three: Four

Can you believe?


	7. Three - Four

Whoo, somebody actually reviewed. The glee of reading it made me update immediately. So here you go, 'Rika Hanyuu Furude', have another chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Three – Four

* * *

Spongebob awoke on the floor of his bedroom. It wasn't hugely comfortable. It made him wonder why he was lying on the floor if it wasn't hugely comfortable.

_Why am I lying on the floor when it_'_s not hugely comfortable_? He wondered.

Perhaps he had fallen out? He didn't do that very often. He looked over at Gary, snoozing quietly. So Gary hadn't moved him and stolen his bed again.

He stood up with a little creaking and groaning.

Sandy was in his bed.

Suddenly the memories of last night returned to him. Sandy appearing from the shadows. Dragging his injured friend inside. Tucking her into his bed and optionally sleeping on the floor. Lying wide awake, terrified, wondering what in hell could have done such damage to the strongest fighter he knew.

It had been a long night.

There was a knock at the door. Spongebob hastily straightened his clothes and hurried downstairs. He flung the door open to find Patrick.

"Hey, Spongebob, great carnival, huh?" his friend asked, smiling lazily.

Spongebob forced a chuckle. He'd been to better.

"It sure was, Patrick. Thing is, I'm still kinda tired, so I think I'm gonna stay in bed for a bit longer."

Patrick's expression didn't change.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll wait out here until you're awake."

Spongebob closed the door without listening to what Patrick had said. He hastened back upstairs to look for signs of life from Sandy.

She was awake.

She rubbed her eyes wearily and winced, having rubbed against one of the angry bruises on her cheekbone. She suddenly looked around, startled, before noticing Spongebob and yelping with surprise.

"Hey, calm down, it's only me!" Spongebob assured her. "Spongebob, your friend, remember?"

Sandy calmed.

"Spongebob. Of course. You made me jump, is all."

She looked around again.

"Where am I? Why am I here?"

Spongebob laughed half-heartedly.

"You're in my bedroom, silly."

She sighed. Spongebob serioused.

"As for the why, I'm not too sure. I found you last night, outside my house, looking slightly worse than you do now."

"Did I say anything?" she asked anxiously.

"You said, 'They're back'," Spongebob remembered. "Then you passed out."

She frowned at the bed. After a minute of silence, Spongebob decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at his brain for hours.

"Who's back, Sandy?"

She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Spongebob. I've been hiding a lot from you, all the time I've known you."

_I_'_m not sure I can hold that against you_, thought Spongebob grimly.

She took a deep breath.

"My brothers are back."

Spongebob blinked in surprise. _Brothers_?

"I'm a triplet, Spongebob. I have two brothers called Randy and Dandy."

Spongebob did not understand. What did brothers have to do with her current state?

"When we were growing up in Texas, Randy and Dandy always hated me. I was the best. I was faster, stronger, smarter than them. Dad loved me more than them, so much more. But they adored Dad. All they got in return for their adoration was disdainful looks and comparisons with me."

Spongebob blinked some more.

"You don't get it, Spongebob? They want to kill me."

Spongebob gasped.

"After Dad died, I knew that there would be nothing holding them back from trying. I left. I didn't want to hurt them, so I just ran away, as far as I could. First to a university, and then to the bottom of the ocean. But they've found me, Spongebob. They're coming for me. They attacked me. I survived, obviously, but they managed to trap me in Rock Bottom for a little while. I don't know where they are, but I know that they'll try again. As long as I'm here, you're in danger."

Spongebob shook his head.

"Don't you worry about that. You stay here until you can stand by yourself again, and after that we're going to get the whole town to help protect you from your brothers."

Spongebob was dumbfounded for a moment. _Brothers_. He had thought siblings were meant to love each other and care for each other. What monsters could want to kill their own flesh and blood over something as petty as jealousy?

Sandy was staring at him with a strange mixture of pity and gratitude.

"Thanks for the sentiment, Spongebob, but I can't stay here. You can't protect me. This is a battle I have to fight myself."

Spongebob was scared. This was the most horrifying thing ever to have happened to him. How could such dangers be attacking him and his friends? How could he be in a situation where he was powerless against those dangers? He had to at least try.

"Even if you've got to go, at least stay for a day. You won't be able to fight your brothers like that. You need rest and recup… recup… you need to get better."

She smiled sadly at him.

"Fine. One day. Then I'm outta here and hunting down my bastard brothers."

Spongebob inwardly grimaced. How could she seem almost carefree about her kill-or-be-killed situation with her own brothers?

"Tell you what, I'll make you some breakfast. After that, I'll have to go to work. I'll be back around half five. You've got to promise to stay put, alright?"

She nodded, with the same sad, almost patronising smile. Did she really think him so useless in the face of danger? Did he just look like a pathetic child in her eyes? He would prove her wrong, he vowed to himself. He would definitely protect his friend. He trotted downstairs.

"Meow," whined Gary.

"Not now, Gary! I'm kinda busy here! You know, protecting my friend from her psycho brothers?"

The snail scowled at him, as best as snails can scowl, which isn't very well, so Spongebob didn't notice as he busied himself making seanut butter sandwiches for Sandy's breakfast, knowing her love for the crunchy substance as he did. Peanut butter, by the way, is fucking horrible.

He carried the plate of sandwiches back upstairs to where Sandy was still lying in his bed. He breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't already made a break for it, feeling slightly more confident that she would stay for the rest of the day. He set the plate down on the bedside table, next to his foghorn alarm clock.

"You just eat those whenever you like, OK?" he assured her. She nodded, clearly paying little attention.

He sat at the foot of the bed for a while, watching her nibbling at the sandwiches.

"If you've been fighting, how'd you avoid your helmet breaking?" he asked. She swallowed a mouthful before replying.

"Well, I have considered the possibility of my helmet breaking before, so I took the precaution of making a reinforced one. This one would take one hell of a force to get through; it would take a direct bomb strike to break this."

Spongebob nodded. It made sense, he supposed.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Spongebob kept replaying Sandy's words from earlier in his mind. Something felt wrong.

"Sandy, how long ago did your brothers attack you?"

She paused.

"Three days ago."

Spongebob froze, eyes wide, breath stopped. _Three days_.

_So who had he met two days ago_?!

All along he'd thought something had been strange about Sandy that day. This was not possible. The entire time he'd spent joking around and collecting samples, it had been one of Sandy's psycho bothers!

She looked concerned.

"Spongebob? What's wrong?"

Spongebob croaked weakly.

"Spongebob? What is it?" A hint of urgency had crept into Sandy's voice.

"I met one of your brothers."

Panic was clear on Sandy's face.

"When? How? What happened?"

Spongebob's expression was miserable.

"Two days ago, someone I thought was you called me over to the treedome to help with some work."

Sandy's face went very pale underneath the fur.

"What kind of work?"

Spongebob gulped, even more terror-stricken by Sandy's reactions.

"I- I helped him collect organisms to use as test subjects."

"Testing what?" Sandy's face grew ever more ominous the more Spongebob spoke. Her voice cracked slightly as she asked the question.

Spongebob gulped again, his throat dry.

"The effects of radiation."

Sandy held her face in her hands.

"W-What's wrong?" Spongebob asked, his voice trembling, dreading the answer.

She raised her face.

"Spongebob, were you infected at all?"

Spongebob shook his head.

"N-No, I never went in."

"You could still have been infected. Did you go near the machine when it was on?"

Spongebob nodded.

"I don't suppose you wore a radiation suit?"

Terrified, Spongebob slowly shook his head.

Sandy sighed sadly.

Spongebob remembered that 'Sandy' had been wearing her suit inside the treedome. He'd thought it strange at the time. Why hadn't he mentioned it? Why hadn't he thought about it? Damn, he was an idiot!

"But… I thought, because it was alfalfa particles, it couldn't hurt me?" he desperately tried.

She shook her head.

"If my brother told you that, Spongebob, it was a lie. My machine uses gamma radiation and there's no protection other than radiation suits. Gamma radiation is the most penetrating and the most ionising; in other words, it's the most dangerous type, and if you were even in the room, you got infected."

Spongebob slumped to the floor, struck by shock. Sandy stared at the bedcovers, her face hidden.

"W-Why?" Spongebob asked. "Why would they want to hurt me? What did I do wrong?"

"You're my friend," Sandy murmured. "My closest friend. That's why they want to hurt you. Neither of them could ever beat me in a direct fight. That's why they're targeting my friends. To break my spirit."

Her shoulders began to shake.

"I'm so sorry, Spongebob."

"It's not your fault," Spongebob began.

"IT IS!" Sandy suddenly yelled. "Everything… everything's entirely my fault! Because of me, everyone's going to suffer! It's my fault that everything went so horribly wrong, because I just couldn't put up with my lot in life! I hope the name of Sandy Cheeks is cursed! I hope I rot in Hell for eternity! I deserve torture! I deserve the greatest pain imaginable for everything I've done!"

Her screams were rapidly losing any trace of lucidity. Spongebob knew that he had to comfort his friend. He had, after all, sworn to protect her.

He clambered onto the bed, which was now writhing with Sandy's enraged thrashing, and simply wrapped his arms around his friend. She continued to struggle for a moment, but eventually her madness subsided. She clung to him, sobbing.

"I'm sorry," she murmured through her tears. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

All through her apology, Spongebob simply held her, knowing that nothing he could say would help and needing the comfort himself.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

* * *

After a while, Sandy had assured him that she would be alright and he had hurried out of the door, fully aware that he was late for work. He raced there, cursing the fact that Mr. Krabs had made him come to work on a school day to cater for the extra customers that the carnival had attracted to Bikini Bottom.

"Spongebob! You're ten minutes late, boy!" the aging crab barked at him.

"Sorry, Mr. Krabs," muttered Spongebob, clocking in.

"This isn't like you at all, lad! What happened? Something hold you up?"

Spongebob shook his head. There was no way he could tell anyone what had happened just yet. He missed Squidward's mildly concerned expression as he shuffled into the kitchen. He spent the rest of the day in a daze.

"Something's wrong with Spongebob today," Krabs muttered to Squidward as the pair of them watched the young sponge burn his hand on the grill. Mistakes when cooking were so unusual for Spongebob he would have to actually try to make one.

"It's actually kind of worrying. I wonder what's wrong with him?" Squidward mused. He caught sight of Krabs' slight smirk.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," grinned Krabs. "It's just not every day that you're concerned for the lad, is all."

Squidward scowled.

"I'm not worried about him. It's just that he's always annoyingly happy, so when he's not, it must be the end of the world or something."

Krabs smirked at him and scuttled away.

* * *

Shortly after lunch, Krabs entered the kitchen.

"Spongebob! How you doing, boy?"

Spongebob looked up at his boss with his drooping eyes and saluted.

"Everything shipshape with Mr. Squarepants, sir!" he replied wearily, forcing a smile. Krabs frowned worriedly.

"Well, there's a police officer outside who wants to see you!"

Spongebob blinked.

"A police officer?"

He headed outside, curious. In the parking lot was a single police boat. A tall policewoman with a distinct look of aloof dislike was surveying the Krusty Krab.

He walked up to her.

"Can I help you, officer?"

She looked down at him.

"Are you Mr. Spongebob Squarepants?" she asked. Now that he was closer, Spongebob could see the grim way her mouth was set, all of the frown lines around her eyes. This was not going to be fun. Suddenly a thought struck Spongebob.

The Dutchnight murders.

What with all of the excitement, if you could call it that, with Sandy and her brothers, he'd forgotten about the murders. Had someone died, as Sadie had predicted? Squidward was safe. Trying to be rational, Spongebob wondered why anyone would want to talk to him about a murder; he was hardly involved with it.

"Please step inside the boatmobile, Mr. Squarepants," the police officer said, gesturing towards the door. Obediently, he opened the door and sat down. He was surprised to see Patrick also in the vehicle. Patrick gave him a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," he whispered loudly. "She says we're not in trouble, she just wants to ask some questions."

The woman was rummaging around in a folder.

"By the way, my name is Detective Nancy O'Malley of the Bikini Bottom Police Department."

"Pleased to meet you," Spongebob hastily responded.

"Don't be," said O'Malley, handing him two photos.

Both Spongebob and Patrick shrieked in horror.

"W-What the hell are these?" yelled Spongebob.

"Those are two friends of yours, I believe. Larry the Lobster and Sadie Rechid."

Time stopped.

_Sadie was dead_.

The Dutchnight murders had been continued, just as Sadie had predicted. But she was the victim. Sadie was dead. It made sense, really. She'd supported the Percy Plan. Of course she'd been killed. Such logic did not stop Spongebob from curling up and barely holding back the flow of tears rapidly threatening to burst forth.

"What does this have to do with us?" asked Patrick. Spongebob looked sideways at Patrick. Had it been his imagination, or had Patrick sounded almost defensive? Of course not. He was being ridiculous. Patrick was harmless.

"The two of you are believed to have been the last people to have spoken to Mr. Lobster and Mrs. Rechid before their deaths. Mr. Lobster committed suicide by clawing at his own throat and Mrs. Rechid was burnt to death in an oil drum."

Spongebob was having difficulty taking in what he was hearing. How could two terrible things be happening to him at once?

Suddenly a terrifying thought struck him.

_What if only one thing was happening_?

"Did either of the victims say anything to either of you that might have suggested their impending deaths?"

Spongebob thought slowly.

"Hmm… Sadie did seem very sure that a murder would take place. She said she wondered who would die as though she knew someone would."

O'Malley shook her head.

"That's not saying much. Almost the whole of the town is under the belief that there is an eternal curse from the Dutchman placed upon those who defy its will. Everyone is always certain that a murder will take place."

Spongebob frowned. That hadn't been Sadie's tone at all. He remembered her ominous words, her idea that the perpetrators of the deaths were entirely natural. However, he chose not to speak up. He wasn't entirely sure that he could trust this woman.

O'Malley sighed.

"Is that all you can offer?"

Spongebob and Patrick mutely nodded.

"Well, thank you for your time. Mr. Star, would you like a lift home?"

Patrick nodded cautiously. Spongebob opened the door and climbed out.

"I'll see you later, Patrick," he said to his friend. Patrick nodded, giving him a thumbs-up. He returned the gesture, nodded to O'Malley and closed the door. He took a step back and watched the car drive away, leaving small dust clouds behind it. The conversation echoed over and over in his mind, darkening his thoughts more and more every time. His theory from earlier continued to rebound in his mind.

_What if the two incidents were connected_?

Could Sandy's brothers be somehow tied in with the murders? Sandy had said that they were strong fighters. It would take strong fighters to take down Larry, with his hulking size and rippling muscles.

He returned to the restaurant.

"What did the police officer want?" asked Squidward grumpily, trying his best to seem uninterested.

Without thinking about what he was saying, Spongebob responded very simply.

"Sadie and Larry died last night."

Squidward's eyes and mouth widened in horror, although Spongebob failed to notice as he entered the kitchen.

_More murders_? _Sadie_'_s dead_? _H_-_How can this be_?!

Spongebob simply worked in silence and unusual calm for the rest of the day. Squidward remained in a state of shock. Between them, the entire restaurant almost reached a standstill. Mr. Krabs could only watch his two loyal employees in their respective blue screens of death and wonder helplessly where the hell the joy and sarcasm that usually filled his beloved restaurant had gone.

* * *

Work finished. Krabs waved half-heartedly at his employees as they left, neither even noticing him. He sighed sadly and headed home, watched by a single grim eye.

Spongebob trudged home, brain occupied entirely with multiple brutal deaths. Cheery thoughts indeed. For some reason, he knocked on his own door before entering.

"Hello," he called.

He walked down the hall. Gary scuttled over.

"Meow," he moaned weakly.

"Not now, Gary."

"Meow, meow."

The snail continued to pester Spongebob as he ascended the stairs. When he reached the top, he lost his temper.

"Gary! For Neptune's sake, go away! I'm busy! There are more important things than you being clingy!"

The snail scuttled back down the stairs sadly, or as sadly as a snail can look, which isn't very, so Spongebob didn't notice, not that he would have anyway, as he went into his room to find Sandy in the bed as she had been that morning.

"Hey, Sandy," he smiled sadly. "You feeling good and happy?"

Sandy glared wearily.

"I guess not," Spongebob murmured. "Me neither."

"Don't you mean 'me either'?" Sandy asked.

"No, because that doesn't make goddamn sense and it sounds stupid."

"True dat."

Spongebob sat at the foot of the bed. The pair of them sat in silence for a while, until Spongebob decided to bring up the topic that had been troubling him for a rather significant amount of time.

"You know about the Dutchnight murders, right?"

Sandy thought for a moment.

"Err… Vaguely."

"Well, we've been over it about twenty times in seven chapters, so I'm not gonna repeat it, but basically someone dies every year. Someone died yesterday."

Sandy gasped.

"Who was it?"

"Sadie and Larry."

Sandy blinked.

"I don't think I know who they are."

Spongebob was taken aback. If Sandy didn't know who they were, what were the chances her psycho brothers would?

"Well… do you think your psycho brothers could be related in any way?"

Sandy looked doubtful, because she was in doubt.

"I doubt it. If I don't know who they are, what are the chances my brothers would?"

Spongebob stroked his chin worriedly.

"But is it really possible for two horrible events to happen within days of each other, yet be totally unrelated?"

Sandy shrugged.

"From the sounds of it, these murders have been happening completely independently for years. Randy and Dandy's arrival at a similar time could just be a coincidence."

Spongebob frowned. Something just didn't seem right. Could these things really be unrelated?

They sat in silence for a while longer.

Spongebob heaved a heavy sigh.

"This sucks. Why did life have to become so morbid?"

Sandy simply nodded.

They sat in silence for a while longer.

Spongebob heaved another heavy sigh.

"Hey, Sandy?"

She looked up and grunted.

He stared sadly at her.

"About that radiation from before. How dangerous was it?"

Sandy shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes.

"Was it fatal?"

She looked up.

"Well, I can't be sure… I mean, I wasn't there, I don't know how much it was on…"

"Sandy."

Spongebob's tone and expression were unlike any seen before by a living soul. His sudden maturity and strength came as a shock to someone who had previously seen him only as a happy, simple child. Sandy cleared her throat.

"Yes. Even at the lowest setting, the dose would be fatal."

Spongebob felt a pang of guilt for the scallops and jellyfish. He struggled to contain a smile at what the squirrel before him would say if she knew that he had prioritised the non-sentient organisms.

Sandy watched him, clearly looking for any return to his previously weak self.

"How long would you say I have?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

She looked sideways.

"It's difficult to be certain, but… I doubt you'll see July."

Spongebob betrayed himself. He gasped. _So little time_?

"But today's only the 27th!" he yelped, distraught.

"I know," said Sandy miserably.

Spongebob's mind raced through his options. On the one hand, he could curl up in a ball and cry in the face of his imminent death. On the other hand, he could try to hunt down and defeat his killer. On a different hand to both of those previously mentioned, he could try and resolve all of his regrets, which he had a lot of. First things first. The words of his beloved Grandma Squarepants came to mind.

_You_'_ve always got to smile_,_ even in the face of hell_.

Yes. He would go to his death happy. He ran to his bookshelf and seized a certain red book. He smiled fondly at the cover. He'd started writing his 'To Do Before I Die' list many years ago and the handwriting on the front was adorable in its shoddiness.

"Spongebob? What are you doing?" asked Sandy, completely bewildered.

"This is my list of things to do before I die," said Spongebob proudly, holding out the book. "I'm gonna add one more to it and then do every single one in the next few days before my death!"

He flipped open the book to the last page with writing on it. At the bottom of the page, he scrawled two words.

_Protect Sandy_.

That was it. Plain and simple. His dying wish. He would protect Sandy to his final breath. On the next page, in big letters, he scrawled 'End' and slammed the book shut. Sandy was giving him a very odd look that was nearly impossible to interpret.

"I'll be back in a bit, I promise!" called Spongebob as he ran downstairs, inflated with new confidence in his purpose in life. He swung the door open. In front of him, in an identical suit to Sandy's, stood a severely bruised and battered but very familiar squirrel. Familiar because almost exactly the same squirrel had just been sat in his bed.

Spongebob felt a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.

* * *

Within the box… there is a cat.

The cat… is alive.

The cat… is dead.

The cat… is alive and dead… unless the box is opened.

I opened… the box.

The cat in the box… is dead.

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part Four: Three

Can you believe?


	8. Three - Three

And now things start to get exciting. Oh wait, no they don't.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Four – Three

* * *

Spongebob's head hurt. He clutched it, wincing and gritting his teeth. Crap, this was painful. Why the hell did his head hurt so much?

"Nngh… What did I do last night?" he asked the air, as though it would know.

He looked around, wincing as he moved. Today was clearly going to suck. His house was silent but utterly destroyed. It seemed that everything that could break had been broken. In other words, everything was broken. The furniture, the ornaments, even the walls had enormous holes punched through them. Why? What had happened here? All of his memories were skewed. Something about Sandy.

Randy and Dandy. Of course. All of the horrible memories of the previous day came flooding back to him. Sandy's story. Sadie's death. His own death. Opening the door. A squirrel.

One of Sandy's brothers had found her. That much was obvious. But what had happened next? Presumably, the brother had knocked him out. He must have been gunning for Sandy alone. It made sense that he wouldn't target Spongebob, who was already dying. Spongebob felt a deep well of despair open up inside him. He was going to die and he had failed to protect Sandy. Why wasn't he already dead? He should just die. He really was a pathetic creature.

He climbed the stairs slowly, sobbing slightly as he went. Furious with himself, he tried to scrub away the tears. Why was he so weak? He entered his bedroom, hoping against hope that Sandy would be in there, despite knowing how stupid he was even thinking about it.

Sandy wasn't in there. But somebody else was.

Spongebob stood, silent and still, in the doorway, staring in horror at the crushed remains of his beloved snail.

Gary's beautiful shell had shattered on impact with what had probably been a foot. The snail's soft body must have been pulverised in an instant. However, his face remained intact. It was calm. For a moment, Spongebob could pretend that Gary was merely sleeping, that he would soon wake and meow cutely as he played and was petted and was fed-

Spongebob's heart, so close to the edge since finding Sandy after the festival, finally broke. He had forgotten to feed Gary. For the past three days, no matter how much Gary had begged him, he had harshly and deliberately neglected the poor snail. He was worse than just pathetic; he was a monster. Spongebob collapsed to the floor, his whole body shaking, tears gushing from his eyes like small waterfalls. Sadie. Larry. Sandy. Gary. How many more friends would he lose because of his own uselessness?

Spongebob sat up. If Sandy's brothers were attacking her friends to get to her, how did he know his other friends were safe? Squidward and Patrick were so close. What if the attacking brother had also gone for them during the fight? He couldn't stand to lose any more friends to these bastards. He had to fight to protect them, even if he couldn't protect Sandy. He stood shakily but with a firm face. He would not fail anyone else.

* * *

Spongebob wearily made his way across the unusually lengthy distance to Squidward's. He knocked on the door and waited.

There was no reply.

He knocked again.

There was no reply.

"Squidward?" he called, his throat hoarse from crying. There was still no response. Spongebob began to panic inwardly. Maybe Squidward was just asleep?

Spongebob tried the door handle. The door was unlocked. He peeked inside. The house was as anally orderly as ever. He crept in, alert for any signs of life. There were none. He hurried up the stairs and burst into the bedroom.

It was empty.

Spongebob glanced at the clock. It was only seven o'clock. Squidward was never up at this time. Could Sandy's brothers really have killed another of his best friends?!

Spongebob fled the empty house, the many portraits of its absent owner following him with their leering eyes. He ran to the simple rock next door.

"Patrick! Patrick!" he yelled, hammering on the rock.

There was no reply.

Spongebob's veins chilled. Tears threatened to burst forth again.

_Surely not_…?!

Spongebob flung open the rock and dashed into the spacious space below.

"Patrick?!" he yelled, sticking his head into Patrick's empty bedroom.

"Patrick?!" he yelled, looking in Patrick's empty kitchen.

"Patrick?!" he yelled, staring down Patrick's empty toilet.

"Patrick?!" he yelled, opening Patrick's full fridge.

"PATRICK!" Spongebob screamed, falling to his knees and weeping. He held his face in his hands. There was no way this could be happening. He couldn't take this much loss in one morning. It wasn't fair. Why was fate putting him through this?

Spongebob ran from the abandoned rock. He took one last look at his pineapple and grimly realised that he could never go back. Patrick was dead. Squidward was dead. Gary was dead. He had no place here anymore. He turned away and ran towards the city. He had only one purpose left. He would kill Sandy's brothers and he would save Sandy, if she was still alive. Then he would die. That was his mission. It was as simple as that.

Spongebob ran down the familiar road into the main area of Bikini Bottom. The Krusty Krab appeared on the horizon. In spite of the situation, Spongebob smiled slightly at the sight of the restaurant. At least there was something left that could bring warmth to his heart.

He passed the restaurant. Nobody had arrived this early in the morning. He had to find people. He had to get help.

The bizarre architecture of the centre of Bikini Bottom appeared in his field of vision. He approached the town warily, slowing to a walk. Something was wrong.

Where was everyone?

The town was silent. Bikini Bottom was never silent. Where were the sounds of the town coming to life? It was nearly eight o'clock. People would have to start going to work soon.

Spongebob kept walking. Still there were no sounds. There were no people on the streets. There weren't even any animals. Bikini Bottom was deserted. Spongebob's breathing became faster. Where was everyone?

Spongebob kept wondering the streets aimlessly. There had to be somebody here. Anybody. The whole town couldn't just disappear overnight.

_But was it overnight_? Spongebob began to wonder. He didn't know how long he'd been out. His watch did not show the date. He hadn't thought to check earlier. What if he'd been unconscious for days and the whole town had evacuated or something in the face of Sandy's brothers? No. That was ridiculous. The Bikini Bottomites would never leave their city, even in the face of an army, let alone two squirrels. He dreaded to think what the alternative could be. Was it possible that Randy and Dandy could have killed everyone in the city? No way. This city was invincible.

It had to be.

Spongebob continued wandering and wondering. His rationality rapidly deteriorated the more of the empty city he saw. The longer he spent alone, the longer he had to linger on thoughts of his lost friends. He began to hear Gary's ghostly mewls, full of blame, filling him with guilt. The faces of Patrick and Squidward swam in the air in front of him. Sadie's voice echoed in his ears, not haunting words, just the sound of her voice. And always, in the corner of his eye, was Sandy. She walked alongside him, glaring with a humourless smirk. Though she did not speak, he could easily imagine her words.

"_Come on_,_ Spongebob_. _You said you_'_d protect me_. _Mighty fine job of it you did_,_ too_."

Spongebob sped up, trying to escape his mind's Sandy.

"_You trying to get away_?_ That ain_'_t going to work_, _Spongebob_. _You can_'_t run away from me_. _I_'_m right behind you all the way_."

In another context, these words might have comforted him. Coming from a ghost Sandy that appeared to despise him, they did not.

Spongebob ran.

He had to get away from Sandy. However, his efforts were wasted. With every step he took, another footstep could be heard, just out of sync, just behind him. There was no escape.

Spongebob screamed.

There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape.

There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape. There was no escape.

"HEEEELLP MEEE!"

The scream echoed from the buildings. There was nobody to help. Spongebob was alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.

Entirely alone.

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!"

But no help came.

The city was empty.

Spongebob was alone.

He fell to his knees, sobbing and whimpering.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I failed everyone. I'm a useless, pathetic excuse for a living organism. I… I should just die."

"Spongebob!"

Spongebob whirled around. Standing just down the street, apparently in no worse condition than slightly concerned, was the person he most wanted to see.

"Patrick!"

Bawling, Spongebob flung himself into his best friend's arms.

"P-Patrick!" he sobbed into the starfish's chest. "I-I was so scared! I thought everyone was- was gone!"

Patrick patted his friend's back.

"Don't worry, Spongebob. Everyone's OK. I was just coming to find you, actually. Something's happened."

Something about Patrick's tone made Spongebob's momentarily lifted heart sink again.

"What's happened, Patrick?" he asked, dreading further bad news.

Patrick stared at him with an incomprehensible expression.

"You'll see," he said gravely, gesturing for Spongebob to follow.

* * *

The treedome was gone.

An enormous crowd had gathered around. From the looks of things, all of Bikini Bottom had come to visit what had been Sandy's home, her beloved and magnificent mix of science and art into which she had put so much work. But it was gone.

In its place was a crater.

The crater was smoking. Small pieces of the shattered glass that Spongebob had thought indestructible were scattered around up to a mile from the crater. As Spongebob and Patrick drew closer, Spongebob was able to see that all of his friends were in fact safe. There was Squidward, shouting angrily about something as usual. Spongebob was too weary to listen. Mr. Krabs was there too, and Pearl, and Mrs. Puff; everyone but Gary, Sandy, Sadie and Larry. He fought back a fresh surge of tears, surprised that he even had any left.

"I found Spongebob, guys! He's OK!" called Patrick. Several of the assembled citizens turned around.

"Well, thank goodness for that, lad," said Mr. Krabs. "We thought something might have happened to you!"

Spongebob smiled weakly.

"Yeah… I'm fine."

He stepped up to the crater.

"What in the name of Neptune happened here?" he wondered.

Squidward turned his glare on him.

"I'll tell you what happened! Sandy's nuclear reactor must have exploded!"

Spongebob gasped in shock. Surely that couldn't be possible?! Sandy herself had told him- wait. That had been one of her brothers, the one that told him the reactor couldn't explode. Had he been mocking him? Spongebob knew exactly who must be responsible for blowing up the treedome. But why?

"We're lucky we weren't all fried!" continued Squidward. "It's a good thing that glass was almost indestructible to the point that it could contain the explosion! But that hasn't saved us from danger! The radiation from that explosion will have poisoned all of us! Those of us that don't die will mutate horribly! That damn squirrel's doomed us all!"

And there was the answer to Spongebob's question. Everything had fallen into place. It all made sense now.

Sandy's brother had been doing exactly what he'd said he was doing on that day. He'd been testing the effects of radiation on living organisms. Spongebob had been a test to see if he could successfully poison the whole of Bikini Bottom with this explosion.

A citizen Spongebob knew named Harold began shouting with rage.

"Bloody land creatures! This is all their fault!"

Someone else joined in.

"Those bastards, with no respect for our lives, putting their bloody nukes on our land!"

"We should nuke Shell City for revenge!"

"We should nuke Washington! Everything's the Americans' fault, in the end!"

"Don't forget the individual perpetrator! The land creature that brought this catastrophe down on our heads!"

Squidward joined in.

"Yeah! Sandy's at fault here too! We should find her!"

"If she's still alive, we need to fix that!"

Spongebob's eyes widened in horror. Damn, Sandy's brothers were good at what they were doing. They'd doomed all of Bikini Bottom and now they were manipulating mob psychology to turn the entire city against Sandy.

"No! That's not true!" he tried to shout. However, his voice was drowned out by that of the mob. Mr. Krabs put a claw on his shoulder.

"It's no use, boy. Once people get angry, they can't be stopped."

Spongebob clenched his hands into fists, squeezed out his last tears and scrubbed them away. He was done crying. He was done running away. It was time for action.

Spongebob strode to the lip of the crater and stood in front of the crowd.

"People of Bikini Bottom! Please listen to me! I have important information that you have to know!"

One or two people turned around, but the crowd as a whole paid him no heed.

Spongebob gritted his teeth.

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!"

Bikini Bottom fell silent. All of them turned to Spongebob, in awe of the sudden change that had come over the little sponge.

"Thank you! Listen, you're being tricked! Sandy's done nothing wrong! There are only two people responsible for this mess and their names are Randy and Dandy Cheeks!"

Several people looked confused.

"Sandy has two identical triplet brothers! They hate Sandy because she's so clever, so strong and such a good person! They're trying to not only kill her, but torture her by destroying the Bikini Bottom that she loves so much as well!"

_Mr_._ Krabs was right_, Spongebob thought. _Once a mob gets angry_,_ you can_'_t dissipate their anger_._ So what you have to do instead is change their target_.

"I was the first person to suffer for their plan!" he continued. "As an experiment, three days ago, one of the brothers infected me with a deadly dose of radiation!"

The crowd gasped. Spongebob's heart nearly broke again to see the tears in Patrick's eyes.

"I have nothing left to lose! I am going to stop Sandy's brothers and save this town from them! I implore you, good people of this beautiful town, join me! Help me fight for your sakes and for those of everyone around you! We have to stop them! Together, we can do it!"

The crowd murmured among themselves. Spongebob watched silently, desperately hoping that they would make the right choice.

"Yeah!" shouted Mr. Krabs. "We've gotta stop those bastards and help Sandy and Spongebob! Who's with me?!"

"Yeah!" roared a huge number of the crowd.

A large, burly man in uniform strode forth. Spongebob recognised him as the chief of police, Al Puss.

"We recognise the danger we are in. All of us must stand together against this threat and overlook our past differences. Mr. Squarepants, I salute your courage. You shall have the full support of the police."

The crowd roared its approval.

Detective O'Malley was stood behind Puss.

"Quite," she added, her face stony. "In the face of this threat, we must overlook everything, even the murder case. I will assist you personally, Mr. Squarepants."

Puss smirked back at her.

"Well, it's good to see something take your mind off of your obsession with the Dutchnight case, O'Malley."

She nodded, her expression unchanging.

"I have a duty to the people that comes before any personal issues."

"Well said, Detective."

In spite of this strange conversation, Spongebob was overjoyed. The city was united. They were going to stop Sandy's brothers. They were going to save Sandy. At last, he wasn't useless. If there was one thing Spongebob Squarepants could do, it was talk.

Patrick approached him, lip quivering. Spongebob smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry, Patrick. My death is inevitable. But we might be able to save the city."

"But what about the radiation from the blast?" asked Krabs. "I thought that had already doomed us all."

"We don't know that for sure," replied Spongebob. "I doubt Squidward is an expert at nuclear physics. We should ask someone who is."

"But Sandy's gone," said Patrick, confused.

"That's true," said Krabs. "But Sandy's not the only genius in this town."

Spongebob wondered why Mr. Krabs' expression had become a glower.

* * *

Plankton was stood a short way away from the rest of the crowd, glaring at the sand beneath his tiny feet.

Spongebob and his friends approached the microbe.

"Plankton?" asked Spongebob. Mr. Krabs had for some strange reason chosen to hang back and help organise search parties.

"What do you want, Spongebob?" replied Plankton with his typical charm.

"The nuclear reactor exploded," Spongebob said.

"Well spotted."

"Listen! You're a genius, right? We need to know what effect the radiation will have on the town, and you're probably the best person to ask."

Plankton raised his eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, we're probably all safe. The glass of Sandy's treedome wasn't just extremely strong, it was radiation absorbent. I helped make it myself. Those fragments of glass are burning hot in a radioactive sense, and there's some radiation floating around, but as long as we dispose of those glass fragments and stay away from the crater, there shouldn't be any lasting damage to the citizens."

Spongebob blinked in surprise.

"Everyone will be fine?"

"Pretty much. Assuming you can stop the deadly squirrel bros."

Spongebob beamed.

"That's great! We should go tell everyone!"

* * *

Hours later, Spongebob and the search party he had been assigned to were scouring Jellyfish Fields. A specialist team had been put together to gather up and dispose of the glass fragments and cordon off the treedome, which was never to be approached again. It made Spongebob sad to see Sandy's pride and joy abandoned, but it could not be helped.

Spongebob walked over to where Detective O'Malley was venturing into a cave.

"So, what did the chief mean when he said you were 'obsessed' with the Dutchnight murders, Detective?" he asked casually.

"Mr. Squarepants, there exists a practise that is generally referred to as 'minding one's own business'. Have you ever attempted to do this?"

Spongebob blinked.

"Never heard of it."

O'Malley sighed.

"My alleged 'obsession' with the case is due to my personal involvement with it."

"Huh?" Spongebob raised an eyebrow. O'Malley looked melancholy.

"I was a close friend of two of the victims."

"Huh?!" repeated Spongebob.

"Yes. Fred and Sadie Rechid were both good friends of mine."

"HUH?!" overreacted Spongebob. "You were friends with Sadie?!"

"Yes. I met her through Fred."

Spongebob reeled from the shocking revelation.

Moments later, he shrugged.

"Well, that's interesting."

They left the cave, having found it to be empty other than a polar bear which wasn't dead.

Patrick and Mr. Krabs approached.

"Hey, Spongebob," said Patrick mournfully. Spongebob's heart ached. Poor Patrick was going to lose his best friend in the world, no matter how this turned out.

"Hey Patrick," Spongebob replied, putting on a brave smile to comfort his friend. "I guess you guys haven't had any luck either?"

Krabs shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, my boy. Don't worry though, if any of those squirrels are still in Bikini Bottom, alive or dead, we'll find 'em."

Spongebob sniffed and smiled.

"Thanks for the support, Mr. Krabs."

Krabs smiled fondly at him.

"We were thinking you should probably get some rest, boy. It's been a long day and you seem… fragile."

Spongebob scowled. That was not something he wanted to hear.

"I'm fine, really. I want to keep looking."

Patrick looked at him, lip trembling again.

"Come on Spongebob," he moaned. "We're worried about you."

There was no saying no to that face.

"Alright. But I want to be up as soon as possible tomorrow morning to help with the searching, OK?"

They nodded.

"Come on, lad. We'll walk you back."

The three friends headed home. Krabs pulled Spongebob a little back from Patrick.

"Boy, I know you said you're dying. Do you have any idea how long you've got?"

Spongebob hesitated. He couldn't tell Mr. Krabs the truth.

"I talked to Sandy yesterday, who told me that I'd been poisoned by her brother, who was pretending to be her. She estimated that I'd live for a year or so."

Krabs smiled sadly.

"Well, at least you'll get to spend some time enjoying yourself before you go."

Spongebob nodded. The lie hurt. But at least it made Mr. Krabs happy. Spongebob knew that his boss had lost his wife many years ago while he was fighting in the war and had never got to say goodbye. It was the reason Krabs was so protective of anyone under his care. Spongebob could not bring himself to hurt the old crab. Underneath his tough shell was a soft heart and hurting it was an inconceivable sin.

They stopped outside the pineapple. Spongebob stared up at it, with its gaping holes in the walls and the damage within all too visible. His house was no longer a home, and not even Homebase could fix that.

"What in the name of the Dutchman happened to your house, boy?!" asked Mr. Krabs in shock.

"Sandy and one of her brothers had a fight," replied Spongebob dully.

Patrick looked at Spongebob.

"Do you still want to sleep there, Spongebob?"

Of course he didn't. The place was full of horror, death and destruction. His beloved pineapple was gone. What stood in its place was nothing to him. He shook his head.

"Well, you can stay at my place, if you want."

Spongebob smiled at his friend's offer.

"That would be great, thanks, Patrick. It'll be just like a slumber party!"

Patrick grinned weakly. It was the first smile Spongebob had seen on his friend's face all day. As much as he hated what these events were doing to him, he hated what they were doing to his friends more.

Patrick headed for his rock. He stopped and turned.

"Wait, what about Gary?" he asked.

Spongebob froze. He looked at his feet for a minute. Quietly, he managed to get out two words.

"Gary's dead."

Spongebob did not look up. He did not see Patrick's eyes welling with tears, nor Krabs' grim frown. They stood in silence.

Eventually, Patrick moved. He hoisted up the rock, revealing the bizarrely spacious home within.

"We're gonna keep searching. We'll see you tomorrow. You make sure you get some rest, OK?" Krabs told him.

"I'll be back soon, Spongebob," said Patrick. "Make yourself at home."

"Goodnight, Spongebob," they both said as they walked away, closing the rock behind them.

* * *

Spongebob settled into his sleeping bag on the floor of Patrick's bedroom and turned out the light. He liked Patrick's house. It wasn't the same as his, it didn't carry as many beautiful memories, but it was nice all the same. He snuggled into the sleeping bag and closed his eyes.

There was a creak.

Spongebob decided it must have been nothing. After all, all houses creaked. Then he heard the sound of the rock closing. Surely Patrick couldn't be back all ready?

Suddenly a hand covered his mouth.

Spongebob opened his eyes and tried to scream.

It was Sandy's brother.

The squirrel was grinning at him with an insane glint in his eye.

"Hey, Sponge Boy," he said. "How you doing?"

Spongebob's eyes narrowed.

"The name's Dandy. Dandy Cheeks. Sandy's brother."

There was a long scar running down Dandy's left cheek. It looked fresh and angry.

"I think you should keep looking for Sandy, 'cause I can't find her either. I wouldn't bother looking for Randy though, 'cause he went and blew himself up."

Spongebob stared in horror. Dandy laughed.

"Oh, by the way, I just wanna say I'm sorry about killing your snail. It was an accident. I just wasn't looking where I was going."

Dandy burst out laughing. Spongebob fought against his hand, furiously trying to seize the squirrel and tear off his helmet, but Dandy was incredibly strong. Dandy just kept laughing.

"Go to sleep, little boy."

Dandy lifted his hand and immediately replaced it with a cloth. Drowsiness overcame Spongebob. He tried to fight it, but was overwhelmed by the drug. The last thing he saw before he sank into unconsciousness was Dandy's grinning face.

* * *

I don't want you… to go.

I don't want you… to stay.

I don't want you… to fight.

I don't want you… to die.

I want you… to be happy.

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part Five: Two

Can you believe?

* * *

That's right, folks, this arc still ain't over yet. Two more chapters to go.


	9. Three - Two

Well, I don't have anything better to do, so have another chapter.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Five – Two

* * *

"Spongebob! Spongebob! Wake up!"

Spongebob's eyes cracked open slowly. Patrick was shaking him violently with a frantic expression on his face.

"Huh? P-Patrick?"

"Spongebob! You've gotta get up! Squidward's missing!"

Spongebob blinked up at him.

"You sure he hasn't just gone to look at another bomb crater?"

Patrick shook his head wildly.

"Spongebob, this is serious! There was blood in Squidward's house!"

Spongebob lurched upright and fell over. His head was pounding. What was wrong with him? Could this be to do with the radiation poisoning? He realised with a shock that he wasn't likely to live more than a few more days. He probably wouldn't even be able to walk soon. Patrick helped him to his feet and they did their best to hurry out of the rock to Squidward's house. Spongebob staggered through the door. The house was a mess, to put it nicely. All of Squidward's beloved portraits were torn and broken on the floor. The furniture had been ripped apart. Spongebob saw with a shudder that several patches had been set on fire.

"In Squidward's bedroom," said Patrick tentatively.

Spongebob edged up the stairs, Patrick following just behind him. There was a strong metallic smell in the air. As Spongebob approached, the smell became so strong that Spongebob had to cover his nose. Dreading what he was about to see, he pushed open Squidward's bedroom door.

And vomited.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

Patrick's words had made him think of a patch of blood on the carpet. This was so much worse. The whole room had been painted in thick blood, most of which was only just drying. Spongebob couldn't begin to imagine what monster lurked in Bikini Bottom that could have done such a thing. How could it be possible to have spilled so much blood here? Surely this couldn't all be Squidward's?!

Spongebob felt the urge to cry overcome him, but no tears came. He would stick to his oath. He would never cry again. He wiped his mouth and stood. When had he fallen to his knees? He hadn't even noticed.

Spongebob turned and ran. Almost falling every step of the way, he bolted from the slaughterhouse and fled back to the safety of Patrick's rock. Patrick followed, his eyes brimming with tears. Spongebob curled in a ball in the corner of a room and Patrick knelt by him and held him.

"I'm so sorry, Spongebob," murmured Patrick.

Spongebob was silent. He simply pressed his face against his friend's chest.

"Hey, Spongebob… it's OK to cry, you know. It's not weak. Come on, Spongebob, I don't want to cry alone. Spongebob?"

Spongebob stayed silent as Patrick broke down in tears. This had only stiffened his resolve. Dandy was a monster that had to be stopped.

Dandy! The memories of last night had felt like a distant dream, but now they came back to him. The evil squirrel's grin, his rant, the news of Randy's death and Sandy's survival, his scar…

"Patrick!"

Patrick looked up, snivelling.

"Yeah?"

"Dandy snuck in here last night!"

Patrick yelped in horror. Spongebob hurriedly explained what had happened. When he had finished, Patrick was staring at him in shock.

"That's… that's horrible. This Dandy guy is horrible!"

Spongebob nodded. Patrick forced a smile.

"But hey, look on the bright side, at least. Sandy's still alive!"

Spongebob nodded sadly.

After a moment, he stood.

"Alright, if she's alive, we should be looking for her."

Patrick nodded and got to his feet. The two of them left the rock.

* * *

The first person they came across in Bikini Bottom was Detective O'Malley.

"Good morning, Mr. Squarepants," she said, nodding to the pair of them. They returned the greeting.

"I have just been leading a group of police searching the Rock Bottom prison. We found no trace of any of the squirrels, but there was one major mystery we came across. You are aware of what occurred in the fourth Dutchnight murder, correct?"

_Wasn't she supposed to be overlooking the murders at the moment_? Spongebob thought wryly.

"Er… the fourth one… when the senator's wife got killed?"

"Yes. You are aware that there was a culprit arrested?"

"Who probably didn't do it?" said Spongebob without thinking. O'Malley looked at him with an odd expression.

"Hmm. Well, we found that prisoner's dead body today."

"Huh?!" exclaimed Spongebob.

"Yes. The cause of death was most unusual. He had torn out his own throat with his bare hands."

Spongebob and Patrick gasped simultaneously.

"But that's-!"

"Yes. That is how Larry the Lobster killed himself three days ago. I have no idea what the link could be. This is getting more and more confusing."

"Tell me about it," said Spongebob. He then proceeded to describe his meeting with Dandy last night and Squidward's unsavoury death.

"So one of the squirrels is dead?" said O'Malley, stroking her chin. "And Squidward Tentacles too… that is very unnerving. Could somebody possibly be targeting…? Never mind."

Spongebob raised an eyebrow.

"Well, regardless," said O'Malley, "look on the bright side. Ms. Cheeks is alive."

Spongebob forced a smile and agreed. His head still pounded and his vision was blurry. His time was running out. He had to find the squirrels.

As if on cue, Dandy strode up to them.

The three of them froze, simply staring at the murderous squirrel, who was grinning lazily at them.

"Howdy," he said. "Lovely weather today, don't you think? Anyone seen my sister?"

O'Malley drew her gun. Dandy laughed.

"Oh, put it away, sweetheart. I ain't gonna hurt none of you."

O'Malley kept the gun trained on the squirrel. Spongebob found his voice.

"You killed Squidward, you evil bastard!" he snarled. Patrick flinched and looked at Spongebob in shock.

Something very strange happened. There was a brief flash of what looked like anger on Dandy's face. Then it disappeared and his sickening grin returned.

"So what?"

Spongebob's face contorted with rage. He lunged for Dandy and Patrick seized his arms and held him back. Spongebob struggled against Patrick's grip, but the starfish was much stronger than he was. He gave up, panting, and simply glared at Dandy, who smirked back.

"What the hell?!"

A deep voice shouted the words. Everyone looked for the source until Spongebob spotted Plankton a couple of metres away, staring at Dandy in shock.

"Is that-?!"

"That's Dandy!" yelled Spongebob. "Go and get the townspeople!"

Plankton hurried away as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Dandy looked slightly put out.

"Well, that's a shame. I guess I'll have to be going now. See you, Spongy."

Dandy turned to leave. O'Malley prepared to fire.

Suddenly, there was a colossal bang. A white figure burst from the building just next to them and rolled into Dandy's path. The figure straightened up.

It was Sandy.

Dandy serioused for the first time.

"Hey, Bro. How you doing?" said Sandy, glaring coldly at Dandy. Her brother did not respond.

"Spongebob, Patrick, you guys have gotta get out of here," Sandy called. "This ends now, so it's gonna be pretty explosive."

Dandy's glare increased its hatred levels to over 9000. Sandy flashed him a quick, humourless grin and charged. The three Bikini Bottomites scattered.

Sandy's initial strike was countered by Dandy's arm. So much force was behind the blows that the impact rattled the rickety buildings. Dandy lunged at Sandy with a kick, which she dodged by leaping backwards. Dandy raced after her and the two became indistinguishable. A well-aimed kick from one hurled the other into the building in which Sandy had been hiding. The tall building, already somewhat unstable, collapsed onto the very spot where O'Malley had run to escape from the squirrels. Spongebob could only watch in horror as the brave detective was buried in a mess of broken iron and steel. The squirrels kept fighting.

"O'MALLEY!" screamed a male voice behind Spongebob and Patrick. Another policeman ran up to them, staring frantically at the wreckage. He seized the two boys by the scruffs of their necks and hurled them behind him.

"You boys have got to get out of here!" he yelled back at them. "This place is about to turn into a war zone!"

As he spoke, hoards of policemen were charging up the street. They were already firing at the two battling squirrels.

"No! Stop shooting!" Spongebob tried to yell over the din. Nobody heard. Spongebob was almost relieved to see that the two squirrels were so fast that they were able to dodge the bullets. The relief ended when an old woman was hit with a bullet meant for the squirrels and the firing immediately ceased. Another building shattered when a punch from one squirrel was dodged by the other. Spongebob could hear the people inside screaming as it collapsed around them.

Patrick grabbed his shoulder.

"Come on, Spongebob! We gotta get outta here!"

Spongebob refused to budge, desperate to do something. He had thus far completely failed to fulfil his vow to protect Sandy. He couldn't bear to be useless any longer.

"Spongebob, there's nothing we can do! Let's go!"

Patrick dragged the struggling sponge away, thanking the Dutchman that his friend was not very physically strong, in spite of his seemingly iron will.

* * *

The two friends were sat in silence in the middle of Jellyfish Fields. They had been there, not speaking and not moving, for several hours. The sky showed no sign of darkening yet, but the night had to come soon. They had moved so far from the city that they could no longer hear any noise from the battle that was raging. Spongebob idly wondered how many people were dead. He considered the possibility that everybody was dead, just as he had thought yesterday, and he and Patrick were all that was left alive in Bikini Bottom. He looked up and almost smiled. No. They weren't all that was left. Flocks of scallops flocked overhead, chirping. Their cries brought back fond memories of Junior, of peaceful days when everybody was happy together. Jellyfish hummed lazily over the fields, drifting in the breeze, without a care in the world. How many hours had he spent here, playing with his friends? He scolded himself for disturbing the peace of the jellyfish by hunting them. Thinking of jellyfishing made him think of Ol' Reliable. He hadn't seen what had become of the beloved net. Perhaps Dandy had broken that too. It seemed that Dandy had taken away anything he cared about.

No. That wasn't true. He still had the starfish beside him, his loyal friend through thick and thin. Patrick Star would always be his best friend. For a brief second, Spongebob thought that Patrick had started laughing. When he blinked, however, his friend was still staring solemnly at the ground. Where had that come from? He shook his head slightly. He was going crazy. He shuddered at the memory of yesterday's madness, the ghosts of his friends and the footsteps behind him. Insanity was a terrifying thought. He wondered if Dandy was insane. That might make sense. Dandy did have a certain look about him. The glint in his eye was beyond mischievous or even evil. He sensed that Dandy was beyond rationality. Following that idea, Spongebob supposed that Dandy couldn't really be held responsible for what he was doing. If he was insane, he had no real control over his actions. Somehow, Spongebob found that with this theory, he could no longer bring himself to hate Dandy. Dandy was not evil. He was just mad. For some reason, this idea made Spongebob slightly happier. He hated evil more than anything else. If there was no evil involved, he didn't have to hate anybody. Hatred was hard. The world needed less hatred. Spongebob, who had always seen himself as a bearer of happiness, was glad not to need to hate anybody. It was against his nature. It was against everything that made Spongebob himself. He glanced across at Patrick, still sat miserably with his knees tucked against his chest. Misery did not suit Patrick. Spongebob had no place calling himself a bearer of happiness if he let his best friend be so depressed right in front of him. He had to spread some joy.

"Hey, Patrick?"

Patrick glanced up at him.

"Hm?"

Spongebob grinned wearily.

"You wanna play a game?"

Patrick looked utterly bewildered.

"Huh?"

"You know, a game? One of those things you play for fun? I don't think we've had enough fun lately. How about tag? That's so beautifully simple and so much fun. What do you think?"

Patrick looked very lost for a moment. Then he sniffed heavily, smiled weakly and nodded.

The two friends raced about for hours, tagging each other. At one point Spongebob got himself trapped in an angry nest of jellyfish and the two of them barely managed to get away without any stings, tagging each other happily and laughing gleefully as they ran. They took shelter in a cave, which turned out to be the cave Spongebob and O'Malley had searched the day before.

As they ran out of the cave, they almost ran into the flock of jellyfish. They dodged them and the polar bear met the flock instead. Spongebob and Patrick ran away gleefully as the two species collided with a lot of angry roars and buzzes.

At another point, Patrick ran straight through a stack of coral to escape Spongebob's tagging fingers. Spongebob, rather than go through Patrick's hole or go round, attempted to run through the coral himself, resulting in Patrick gaining a very long lead, until he came up with a cunning plan to cut back round Spongebob and set a pit trap for him. For some reason, this plan failed, as Spongebob tagged Patrick while he was digging, causing Patrick to fall in while shouting the name of a certain Nordic country. After half an hour, Patrick managed to work out that he could escape by putting one foot on the lip of the hole and lifting himself up with it. When he did this, Spongebob, who had until that point been sat nearby chatting animatedly, turned and ran, but hit the stack of coral again, resulting in his being tagged.

The two friends spent hours frolicking happily though the fields with only each other and nature for company, all sorrows forgotten. Eventually, as the sky began to dim, the two fell on the grass, neither having any idea who was it, and simply laughed joyfully to the heavens. When they finally stopped laughing, Spongebob smiled at Patrick.

_I could die here_, he thought. _If I died now, that'd be OK. I'm here with my best friend in the world, just having fun. It's OK to end it here._

Spongebob's life did not end at that point. The joy was shattered as a certain policeman ran up to them and brought them back to reality.

"Mr. Squarepants! Mr. Star! Finally, I found you!" It was the same policeman from before, the one who had told them to get out.

"Detective John Blake of the Bikini Bottom Police Department," the policeman introduced himself. "I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances."

Spongebob had to agree with him. Remembering the anguish he had seen on Blake's face earlier, he asked a tentative question.

"Mr. Detective? Er… did Detective O'Malley make it?"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Spongebob regretted them. The man's face fell dramatically.

"No. No, she's dead."

Spongebob put a hand on Blake's shoulder.

"What about Sandy and Dandy?"

Bailey returned his expression to an official stare.

"The battle is over. After several hours, both squirrels fell into Rock Bottom. There have been no signs of further combat, or indeed of life. We believe them both to be dead."

The news blanked Spongebob's mind. Sandy was dead. He had failed. In the end, he'd achieved nothing. Beside him, Patrick was quietly crying.

"Would you like to come back to the city?" asked Blake. Spongebob nodded, his face remaining stony. The three of them walked slowly, Spongebob taking one last look at the peaceful Jellyfish Fields as he went.

* * *

The city of Bikini Bottom was in ruins. It looked like a bomb had hit it. Most buildings were damaged. Many were destroyed beyond repair. How could a one-on-one fight do so much damage?

"Is everywhere this bad?" asked Spongebob as they walked through the town.

"Some areas are worse, some areas are better," replied Blake. "A couple of districts were completely avoided, one was completely levelled. We haven't got a proper hospital any more, so the injured are being cared for in makeshift ones constructed from marquees and houses that people have donated. It doesn't help that a lot of our medical staff were in the hospitals when they were destroyed, so we barely have any professionals. A lot of people are dead, the death toll is estimated at around 100, and there are over 1,000 people injured. Your friend really went all out."

Spongebob frowned. Sandy couldn't be blamed for this.

"But the city will recover, right?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, I have no doubt they'll pull through. I've never seen a tougher people. I can't believe Shell City won the war against this lot."

That news, at least, was somewhat heartening.

They were approaching Rock Bottom. There was a colossal crowd gathered around the edge of the hole, but they parted to let Spongebob and Patrick through. Spongebob stood at the edge and looked down into the blackness. He heard not a sound.

Spongebob turned to face the people of Bikini Bottom, who had been forced to suffer this tragedy. They were dull-faced and grim. This proud state had been through too much. Its people were in need of hope, of inspiration. Spongebob cleared his throat.

"People of Bikini Bottom, we have been forced to suffer a great tragedy in the past few days. But we can pull through. This is the strongest state on Earth. We, together, are a nation that has forged its bonds not through ethnicity, but through the sweat off our backs and the strength of our wills! We fight together and we suffer together and we form such strong bonds of fellowship that we can survive anything! I look at you now, in the aftermath of this catastrophe, and I see not dejected refugees, but strong hearts and iron wills! I see the power to see each other through this and live on! I am a man with nothing left to lose! My death is coming soon! But I will spend the last of my days knowing that I am part of something greater than myself, greater than any of us! We have lost friends, all of us have, but we will fight on! Bikini Bottom, free forever! Bikini Bottom, we love you!"

The crowd roared its agreement. Spongebob looked on them proudly. He hadn't failed. He had saved these people from despair. He had given them hope and the strength to stand back up after this disaster. His pseudo-rousing speech had accomplished something Spongebob Squarepants felt, perhaps for the first time in his life, that his life was really worth something.

Then a squirrel climbed over the edge of the cliff.

The crowd gasped. The squirrel staggered to its feet and then fell over immediately. It was on its last legs. It raised its arm feebly and croaked a single word.

"Help."

Nobody moved.

"Which one are you?" asked Mr. Krabs, scuttling forward, glaring at the squirrel before him.

"S-Sandy…"

"How can we be sure?" asked Blake through gritted teeth, hand on his gun.

"I'll check," said Spongebob, striding over to the squirrel and raising its face.

He stared at it for a moment.

"Well?" asked Krabs.

Spongebob stood up and brushed his hand off on his pants.

"When I saw Dandy two nights ago, I noticed a long, fresh, angry scar running down his left cheek."

"And is it there?!" asked Blake impatiently.

Spongebob stared back at the squirrel, face expressionless. The squirrel stared back, eyes imploring him to show pity.

"Yes," Spongebob replied. "That's Dandy."

As one, the police raised their guns. Dandy's eyes were filled with hopeless despair. The crowd spat abuse at the squirrel. Spongebob stepped back. He took no pleasure in Dandy's execution. Dandy was insane. His life wasn't worth living. He was just a mad worm. And like a mad worm, he had to be put down.

"On my word," announced Puss, arm raised. Blake's finger tightened around his trigger.

And at the last second, another squirrel climbed out of the pit. The whole crowd froze. Spongebob stared in wonder. _Sandy was alive_?!

Sandy picked up Dandy like a twig, raised him above her head and brought him down on her knee. The sharp _snap_ echoed around the silent pit behind the siblings. Sandy casually tossed Dandy to the floor. He was still alive, barely, panting and rasping in pain. Sandy looked down at him disdainfully.

"You are a pathetic creature," she said. "You are worthless and disgusting. Go to your death with shame, _Dandy_. Our father will welcome you to hell."

Her mouth widened into a humourless grin.

"I win."

The two siblings stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was actually more like a minute.

Spongebob calmly took Blake's gun from his hand and pointed it at Dandy. He would not see Sandy be the murderer of her own brother, even at the cost of his own soul. He braced himself.

"This is for my friends and my happiness, you son of a bitch."

A tear spilled from Dandy's eye. Spongebob shot him through the head, the glass shattering easily after so much damage. Dandy's body, finally at rest, lay in a spreading pool of his own blood, which began to trickle over the edge of the pit like a small waterfall. His face was at last peaceful.

Spongebob dropped the gun. So now he was a murderer. Suddenly, he felt that he could no longer face his death with pride. But at least he had saved Sandy.

Sandy had been staring in shock at Dandy's body since Spongebob had shot him. Now she looked up and glared at Spongebob.

"Damn it, Spongebob. I wanted to be the one to kill him."

The two friends stared at each other for a minute.

Sandy smiled.

Both friends started laughing and Sandy pulled Spongebob into a hug, which he gladly returned. The people of Bikini Bottom began to smile again. Krabs patted Spongebob on the back. Patrick smiled through his flood of tears. Bikini Bottom breathed a sigh of relief.

At last, the ordeal was over.

They were safe.

* * *

Some scars… never heal.

Some tears… never dry.

Some people… never return.

Some tragedies… never end.

I'm sorry… for this world.

When the Scallops Cry, Three Arc

Part Six: One

Can you believe?

* * *

'They were safe.' Famous last words. Only one more chapter of this arc to go!


	10. Three - One

At last, this arc is over. And what a happy ending it has.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Three Arc

Part Six – One

* * *

Spongebob Squarepants awoke.

He looked around him. He was lying on Patrick's floor again, but this time he wasn't alone. Like many others, Patrick had offered his home to the people who had lost theirs in yesterday's battle. The various rooms in the house contained a total of about twenty sleeping fish and invertebrates. He looked up at Patrick, snoring loudly in his bed. Spongebob gave him a fond smile and climbed out of his sleeping bag. He tiptoed from the rock and walked out into the fresh morning air. It was only five o'clock. Spongebob remembered waking up at this time only five days ago, when all had seemed normal. It had only been five days ago that life was peaceful! Not even a week! It was a shocking thought. Everything had been so calm and easy. He had laughed and played with his friends. With Patrick, and with Squidward, and with Sandy. Sandy, who lay at the heart of this five-day tragedy, but who bore no blame for it. His friend. How he longed to return to the days when Squidward was alive, when Patrick smiled, when Gary and Sadie were alive, when Bikini Bottom was intact, when Sandy was happy, when his house was intact, when he wasn't a murderer, when Sandy was safe, when everyone was happy, when he didn't have days to live, when the world was peaceful.

_I want to return to that perfect Bikini Bottom_.

He remembered when Sandy had guessed he wouldn't see July. He supposed that estimate had been a little off, but from the constant ache in his chest and head, he guessed that he didn't have long all the same. It was a shame, but somehow Spongebob thought that he could face death with a brave face. He wasn't scared anymore. He wasn't going to cry anymore. He wasn't going to run away anymore. He was proud. It was time to die, and that was OK.

The scallops were crying in the sky. He smiled fondly up at them. Joy was alive. He was happy to sacrifice himself for it. He stepped forwards and took a deep breath. He had someone he wanted to visit.

* * *

Spongebob walked through Bikini Bottom. Even in the midst of the destruction Dandy had wrought upon the city, it was a beauty to behold. This was the strongest place on Earth. It was an honour to die for it, to die as part of it. He found that he could walk with his head held high. For the first time, he could shrug off his past and its evils. He'd committed worse sins now, anyway. He had murdered Dandy in cold blood, even if it had been a form of euthanasia. But he could live with it, since he wouldn't have to for long.

At last, Spongebob reached his destination. It was the former mansion of Bikini Bottom's only senator, Old Man Jenkins. The day before, it had been converted into the primary temporary hospital for those wounded in the battle. He looked up at the top right window. In there, with a ward to herself, lay Sandy. He made his way up the drive. Once inside, he climbed the deserted stairs and walked along the silent corridors until he reached the room he was looking for. He knocked. There was no reply. He entered.

Sandy was sat in her bed, propped up by pillows. She wore a specially designed new helmet. She was awake and staring out the window.

"I saw you coming," she said, not turning round. Spongebob smiled slightly and closed the door. He sat down on a chair. The two of them sat in silence for a while.

Finally, Spongebob took a deep breath.

"It's a nice day," he said. "It's sunny, and pleasantly warm. There's a slight breeze. The scallops are singing."

"Would you really call it singing? It's more like crying, or maybe screeching. I don't like the sound of scallops."

Spongebob had no response.

"It sounds like the weather's nice. I like that kind of weather. If only I could go out in it, instead of being cooped up in this stuffy little room."

She turned to face him. Her face was a mess. But she would heal.

"You have a rip in your pants," she observed.

Spongebob looked down. So he did.

"So I do. I've been meaning to buy a new pair for a while now. Hey, remember that one time when I kept making jokes about ripping my pants and everyone got bored of them and then I pretended to drown and everyone got really annoyed with me?"

Sandy looked at him blankly.

"Not really."

He shrugged.

"Oh well."

They sat in silence again.

Sandy heaved a sigh.

"Spongebob, there's something I really want to tell you. For some reason, it's just been bugging me for ages."

"What is it?" asked Spongebob.

"It's just… I'm- I'm really sorry about Gary. I mean, I know other things have happened, I know Gary's probably hardly the highest on your list of problems, or the things I need to apologise for, but it's just… I'm so, so sorry about Gary. I just… wasn't looking…"

She broke down into tears. Spongebob watched her sobbing sadly. There was nothing he could say or do to comfort her. He just watched his strong friend cry. But he would not shed a tear himself. Never again. He had to keep repeating that to himself, over and over, just to stop the flow of tears that threatened to burst forth as they would from the old Spongebob. Just to stop himself joining Sandy. He was, after all, her emotional support now, rather than vice versa as it had always been. He wondered how she could have got through the events of the past few days if she hadn't had any friends to rely on. Speaking of which, he wondered how he could have got through the events of the past few days if he hadn't had any friends to rely on. The answer was simply that he couldn't have. He would have broken on the fourth day if Patrick, simple, innocent, loving, loyal Patrick, hadn't come to his rescue. As Spongebob watched Sandy cry, he knew that without his friends, there would have been nothing remotely resembling a victory.

* * *

After an hour, Sandy had stopped crying and wiped her face clean of tears. Spongebob had left shortly after. Now he returned to Patrick's rock for the last time. When he swung the rock upwards, the space below was empty but for Patrick, sat in his rocking chair. The starfish looked up as Spongebob descended the steps and closed the rock behind him.

"Hey, Spongebob," he smiled. "Been to visit Sandy, I guess?"

Spongebob nodded. Patrick knew him so well. There were no mysteries between them. There were no divides. They would always be best friends. Spongebob's heart was warmed simply by Patrick's presence.

"You hungry, buddy? I was just about to make some bacon pancakes."

Spongebob nodded.

"Thanks, Patrick. That would be great. My walk worked up quite an appetite."

Patrick busied himself at the cooker, singing a song about bacon pancakes that was all too clearly ripped off from Adventure Time. How that starfish managed to improvise his way through the cooking process without killing half the planet is anyone's guess, but he somehow finished some half-decent bacon pancakes with only half a dozen replacements of equipment. The two friends tucked into them in a comfortable silence. When they were finished, they both simply sat back in their chairs, contentedly full.

After a while, Patrick spoke.

"Things are gonna be OK, buddy. Everyone will be OK, the town will get rebuilt. You don't have to be sad. Even if you're gonna die eventually, at least you'll get to see that you did so much good."

It surprised Spongebob to hear Patrick talking so maturely. He looked across the table to see tears welling in his friend's eyes but a look of mature determination that he recognised from mirrors. Patrick had grown up. He would be OK without Spongebob. He would cry and he would mourn, but he would recover. He would live.

They slipped back into the comfortable silence. There was nothing that needed to be said. They were just happy to be together and alive, at least for now.

The telephone rang. After a moment, Spongebob stood and walked over to the ringing conch shell. Why were phones shaped like shells, anyway? That was one of many questions that had never been answered and probably never would.

"Hello?" he said into the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Squarepants. How are you feeling?"

Spongebob blinked in surprise.

"Oh, good morning, Detective Blake! I'm actually feeling OK right now. What about you?"

Spongebob inwardly cringed, remembering the man's reaction to the death of Detective O'Malley yesterday.

"We have a problem, Mr. Squarepants."

Those were the last words Spongebob wanted to hear right now. He wanted to have a peaceful last few days on Earth.

"What kind of problem?" he asked tentatively, dreading the answer.

"Ms. Cheeks has disappeared."

The world froze. Spongebob's blood went cold. _Disappeared_?

"D-Disappeared?!"

"Yes, Mr. Squarepants. She's gone. We're looking, but thus far there's been no sign of her."

"B-But I just saw her this morning! She looked like she barely had the strength to stand! How could she have gone anywhere?"

Patrick had stood and was looking worried.

"We don't know, Mr. Squarepants. Considering her condition, it is most likely somebody has taken her away."

Spongebob began to panic.

"What?! Who?! Why would someone take her away? Who would want to kidnap her?!"

"Please try and stay calm, Mr. Squarepants. I don't know who could have taken her, but the most likely explanation seems to be that somebody out there still blames her for the events of the past few days and has therefore decided to enact their revenge."

Spongebob screamed. He couldn't help himself. The very thought of somebody doing such a thing flooded him with fear and rage.

"Calm down, Mr. Squarepants. As I said, this is only a possibility. We are doing all we can to find her. Meanwhile, I'm afraid I have another troubling piece of information for you."

Spongebob gulped.

"I trust you know Sheldon J. Plankton?"

Spongebob frowned.

"Sure, I know Plankton."

"He's dead."

Spongebob's heart missed a beat. _Plankton_?! _Dead_?! Why? How?

"Plankton?! Dead?! Why? How?"

"We're not sure. He was found earlier this morning at the shrine of the Flying Dutchman. I'm there now."

"I'll be there as soon as I can!"

Spongebob slammed the phone down and dashed out of the rock. Patrick ran after him.

"Where are we going?" asked Patrick as they ran.

"The shrine of the Flying Dutchman!" Spongebob replied.

* * *

The Kelp Forest was far less scary this time. Spongebob wondered if that was because it was light, or because he had matured since Dutchnight and had felt real fear. He burst into the clearing, closely followed by Patrick. Blake turned to look at them, frowning.

"I warn you, it's not pretty." He stepped out of the way and Spongebob approached the black shrine. Memories of the haunting conversation he had shared with Sadie returned as he stared down at what was left of Plankton. He was overcome with shock. It was just as Sadie had described.

Plankton had been cut into pieces and strewn across the rock, like a sacrifice for the Dutchman. Had Sadie been right? Had someone really been making sacrifices to the Dutchman and disguising them as a curse? Spongebob realised with horror that Bikini Bottom was not yet safe. Randy and Dandy really had been separate entities to the Dutchnight murderers. Sadie and Larry's killers were still around. And now they had killed Plankton. Spongebob noticed that Mr. Krabs was stood nearby, looking sorrowfully at the shrine. Who had done this?

"Well, this is an awful shame."

The voice was familiar and yet terrifyingly new. Everyone present turned to look towards the source.

Sandy emerged from the undergrowth, and she was smiling.

"Sandy! What are you doing here?!" cried Spongebob.

"Why did you disappear?!" asked Blake, far more aggressively.

Sandy shrugged. She was grinning lazily. The expression was sickeningly familiar.

"Sandy?" asked Spongebob tentatively. "Why don't you come back to the hospital with me?"

Sandy shook her head, still grinning.

"Nah, I feel fine. This is a nice location, don't you think? It would make a good place to die. I'm jealous of the little guy."

The four assembled in the clearing stared at her.

"Sandy… do you know anything about this?" Spongebob asked, terrified of the answer.

Sandy tilted her head back. Her eyes and grin widened. The effect was that she looked totally psychotic.

"I dunno. It must have been Dandy!"

And she burst into laughter.

She threw her head back, screaming her laughter to the heavens. Spongebob and Patrick stepped back in horror. What the hell had her experiences done to their friend?!

Krabs and Blake glared at her.

"What the hell do you know, Sandy?" growled Krabs.

Blake drew his gun and pointed it at her.

"Talk!" he yelled.

"What are you doing?!" screamed Spongebob, horrified. He snatched Blake's gun from his hand. Like hell he was going to let him hurt Sandy, regardless of the fact that she was still laughing insanely behind him.

"Give that back, Squarepants!" ordered Blake, lunging for Spongebob. Spongebob pointed the weapon at Blake.

"Stay back!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I'm not gonna let anybody hurt Sandy!"

Sandy's laughter only grew louder.

"Sandy, what's going on?!" yelled Patrick.

Sandy gradually calmed down enough to talk through the chuckles that still shook her body.

"What do you think's going on? You think my brothers would want to kill me over some petty jealousy? I don't think so! They came to Bikini Bottom to protect it, dumbass!"

Spongebob gasped.

"Obviously, I'm the bad guy here! I've always been insane! I tried to freaking kill my brothers when we were younger! I killed my dad in cold blood! That's why my brothers were after me! When they found me, you know, I really thought I was a goner! But you guys! You were so loyal, it was touching! You really saved me back there! You helped me kill my brothers! I'm safe at last!"

Spongebob stepped back, shaking his head. This couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening. Sandy doubled over with laughter.

"You guys are such idiots! I look forward to watching you burn!"

"Squarepants, give me my gun!" roared Blake.

"No!" yelled Spongebob, still pointing it at him, his expression wild. "I promised to protect Sandy!"

This set Sandy off again, laughing her head off.

"Hey, Spongebob?! I wouldn't be so loyal if I were you! I was the one who poisoned you!"

As one, Patrick and Mr. Krabs lunged for Sandy, their expressions furious. Everything suddenly happened very quickly. Spongebob swung round and fired at Mr. Krabs, screaming at them not to hurt Sandy. The bullet bounced off of Krabs' shell. As Spongebob turned, Blake lunged for the gun. He reached Spongebob and the pair of them grappled fiercely over the weapon. Sandy leapt over Krabs and Patrick and dived for Spongebob and Blake. She too grabbed at the gun. There was another gunshot and Spongebob reeled away, blood spurting from his side. Patrick dashed towards him, yelling, as Krabs attempted to help Blake. Krabs knocked Sandy away and Blake fired twice. She dodged one bullet and was hit in the side by the other. She snarled, face contorting with mad rage, and turned and fled. Blake fired again, striking her in the back. She kept running, dripping blood as she went. Blake fired the last bullet. He missed. Sandy disappeared deep into the depths of the Kelp Forest. Blake lowered the gun.

"We'll find her," he growled. "That bitch can't escape us."

Krabs ran to join Patrick at Spongebob's side.

"Call an ambulance!" he yelled to Blake. "Quickly!"

Spongebob's vision faded as a single tear fell from his eye.

* * *

Spongebob awoke in a bed. It was quite comfortable, yet somehow he felt quite the opposite. His side was killing him. He checked the calendar on the wall. It was the same day. It was still 30th June. Maybe he would see July yet. He looked out of the window. The sky was beginning to darken. He realised with slight surprise that he was in the same hospital room Sandy had been in that morning.

_Sandy_.

Spongebob cried. He surrendered. He had failed completely. His entire body shook as he heaved out all of the accumulated tears of the past three days. He had failed Sandy. He had failed everybody.

Spongebob simply lay there, crying alone, for a while.

Patrick entered and immediately sat on the bed and held Spongebob close to him as the broken sponge sobbed into his chest. Patrick cried too. The two friends clung to each other and cried for all that they had lost.

Eventually, they stopped crying. Patrick slowly munched his way through Spongebob's supply of bedside flowers as Spongebob stared out the window thinking his way through endless emotional inner monologues.

"Where's Mr. Krabs?" asked Spongebob at half seven. His throat was dry and hoarse.

"He said he was gonna help the search parties look for her," said Patrick in a similar voice. He couldn't bring himself to say Sandy's name. After all they'd been through, all they'd fought for, all they'd sacrificed, could she really just have betrayed them so easily, yet so terribly?

Spongebob was still fighting not to believe it. There had to be some other explanation.

The two friends did not speak again until quarter past eight, when Mr. Krabs arrived and asked to speak to Patrick outside. Spongebob watched them leave dully. Most likely, they were either discussing his fragile emotional state, or something his fragile emotional state couldn't handle. Whatever. Let them talk as they liked. He didn't need any babying or sheltering anymore. What hadn't he seen by this point? What was there left to upset him? He'd already seen far too much for his age. He supposed it was sad. It wasn't like Patrick was much older. But then, Patrick hadn't seen as much as Spongebob had. Patrick hadn't been put through as much crap. Patrick still had a life that was still worth living. Patrick wasn't about to die.

Spongebob shook his head. He couldn't think like that. Patrick had suffered. He remembered Sadie's words from what seemed like so long ago:

_All loss is painful. We can't be measuring losses against each other and saying _'_Your loss isn't as bad as mine, so nobody should feel sorry for you_'.

Patrick had lost his innocence, his town and his friends, and he was going to lose his best friend in the whole world in a matter of days. Spongebob had to pity him. He cared so much about Patrick. He and Mr. Krabs were the only friends he had left now.

Spongebob turned over in his bed, his side screaming at him figuratively.

He wondered if he'd get to see his parents before he died. That would be nice, but not very likely. He could show them how much better he'd become and he'd be forgiven and they'd be proud of him. An even nicer thought was that if there was a heaven and he got to go to it, he could see his beloved Grandma Squarepants again. Oh, how lovely that would be! He closed his eyes.

"July 1st, here I come," he murmured to himself.

There was a creak.

"Sorry, Spongebob. When I make a prediction, it comes true."

Spongebob's eyes snapped open. A hand shot out from under the bed and covered his mouth before he could scream. A devilish pair of eyes emerged from under the bed, brimming with raging, insane mirth.

"You ain't gonna see July, Spongebob Squarepants!" she shrieked, laughing once more. She raised a knife and plunged it into his chest.

She pulled away seconds later, still shrieking with insane laughter. The door burst open. Spongebob's sheets were being stained red. He found that he couldn't move. A red blur crashed into Sandy as Spongebob's vision began to swim. He focused just long enough to see Mr. Krabs pull out the pin of what looked like a grenade. There was an almighty crash as the red and white figures in Spongebob's blurred vision tumbled out of the window. Seconds later, there was a boom. This was followed by silence.

Patrick was sobbing. Spongebob was slipping from consciousness. His vision was darkening. He noticed his whimpering friend trying to scoop his blood back into his body.

"It's… no use, Patrick…" he said weakly. "It's… OK…"

Patrick was shaking his head, still weeping.

"Please, Spongebob… don't die…"

Spongebob heard the voice of the nurse that had been taking care of him.

"I'm… I'm afraid it's no use, Mr. Star. We can't save Mr. Squarepants. He's lost too much blood."

"NOOOO!" yelled Patrick, sobbing into Spongebob's blood-soaked chest.

Spongebob smiled weakly, putting a hand on Patrick's head.

"I'm sorry, Patrick…"

"NOOOO!"

Spongebob heard the sound of the door opening and closing, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

"I'm… sorry, Mr. Squarepants," said a voice he dimly recognised as that of Detective Blake.

"I-It's OK, Detective…" Spongebob rasped weakly. "It's not… your fault… If anything… it's mine…"

"No, no, no! Don't say that!" yelled Patrick.

"He's right, Mr. Squarepants," said Blake's voice. "You weren't at fault here. You mustn't blame yourself for anything. You've done all you can, which has been plenty. You've been a hero, Spongebob Squarepants, and I salute you."

Spongebob heard what he guessed was the sound of Blake saluting. He smiled weakly.

A thought occurred to him, sobering his thoughts.

"Sandy…? Mr. Krabs…?"

There was a pause.

"I'm… I'm afraid they were both killed in the explosion."

Spongebob sighed and spilt his last tears.

"I really did fail miserably, didn't I?" he said to the spreading darkness.

Patrick was still sobbing.

"No, Mr. Squarepants, you didn't fail. I told you, you've performed magnificently. You deserve a statue or something, in my opinion."  
Spongebob shook his head with the last of his strength.

"No. I failed everyone. I couldn't protect anybody. No matter how hard I tried, everybody's dead. Everyone I touch is cursed. _I_'_m _cursed. I'm just… pathetic."

He felt Patrick shake his head violently against his chest.

"No, Spongebob. I'm still here, remember? I'm still OK. Thank you… thank you so much for everything, Spongebob!"

Patrick collapsed in a heap of tears.

Spongebob Squarepants smiled for the last time.

"Thank you… Patrick. I… did something… worthwhile… I'm… not… pathetic…"

And Spongebob Squarepants died in Patrick Star's arms.

* * *

Don't hurt… those around you.

Don't hurt… your soul.

Don't hurt… those who love you.

Don't hurt… your fate.

Hurt… me.

When the Scallops Cry, Pain Arc

Part One: Thumbscrew

Can you believe?

* * *

And that's the end. The next arc will actually resemble Higurashi again, and of all the arcs I've written so far, it's probably the least bad. And that's good.


	11. Pain - Thumbscrew

And onto the third arc, the semi-faithful adaptation of Tatarigoroshi-hen.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Pain Arc

Part One – Thumbscrew

* * *

The scallops were crying loudly. Sunlight began to creep through the windows. The scallops were too damn loud.

"Can you pass the chips, Spongebob?"

Squidward Tentacles opened his eyes. Surely he hadn't just heard-?

"Sorry, Patrick, we're all out."

"Tartar sauce!"

Squidward sat up very quickly and looked across the room to where Spongebob Squarepants and Patrick Star were sitting.

"What am I gonna do with all this dip?!" asked Patrick irritably, holding up a bowl.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING IN MY HOUSE?!" screeched Squidward.

Spongebob beamed.

"Squidward, you're awake! Good morrow to you!"

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!"

"Oh, we're watching the sunrise!" exclaimed Spongebob happily. "We do it every morning. It's so much better to watch the beauty of nature lit up with golden light _together_."

"It's our favourite pastime," agreed Patrick, grinning and waving a little flag.

Squidward stared at them for a moment.

Day broke and the world rose. Sunlight shone through the windows. Spongebob's camera flashed.

"Thanks for sharing this moment with us, Squidward," gushed Spongebob.

"GET OUT!"

Squidward literally kicked the two friendly fools out of his door.

"DON'T EVER BREAK INTO MY HOUSE AGAIN!" he yelled after them.

"OK, Squidward!" called Spongebob, waving as Squidward slammed the door, fuming. "I'll see you at work!"

* * *

Spongebob couldn't deny that he felt bad for making Squidward angry. He knew that some people liked their privacy and Squidward was no exception. He mentally berated himself.

The Mailfish walked past. He stopped by Squidward's mailbox.

"Good morning, Mailfish!" said Spongebob excitedly.

The Mailfish looked up.

"Oh, it's you. Hi."

"You got mail for Squidward there?"

"Yeah."

"Great! How about you give it to me and I'll take it up to him? He's kinda annoyed at me right now, so I'll try and appease him with it!"

_It would be a better idea just to leave the miserable bastard alone_, thought the Mailfish. Out loud, however, he just said,

"Sure."

Spongebob skipped up Squidward's garden path. He stopped. On the top of Squidward's small pile of mail was a magazine. The front cover depicted an octopus with a very prominent unibrow and a snide smirk that gleamed due to his bleached teeth, posing proudly.

Spongebob raised an eyebrow and continued. He knocked on the door.

"What?!" barked Squidward, opening it and scowling.

"I brought you your mail, Squidward!" grinned Spongebob, holding it up.

"Don't touch my stuff!" snapped Squidward, snatching it away.

"Hey, Squidward?" asked Spongebob.

"What?!"

"Who's that posing octopus on the cover of the magazine?"

Squidward looked at it and glowered.

"Squilliam," he muttered.

"What?"

Squidward sighed.

"That's Squilliam Fancyson. He's a rich senator and a total prick. I was forced to be in the same high school as him."

Spongebob looked surprised.

"What's a senator?"

Squidward scowled at him.

"Are you serious?"

Spongebob nodded. Squidward sighed.

"Well, I suppose you are from a state that doesn't have any. A senator is basically someone in the government of Panmarin. There are 100 senators and 1 president and they debate over every decision that's made."

Spongebob looked excited.

"I wanna be a senator!"

Squidward laughed.

"No chance, Spongebob. You get into the senate not by elections, like in America, but by having enough money and owning enough business. The whole country is run like a company. The more shares you have, the more power you have, and Squilliam's got one of the highest numbers of shares of anyone in the government. Obviously, all of the wealth of the nation is focused in Shell City, so Old Man Jenkins is the only senator who isn't a Shell Citizen."

Spongebob looked confused.

"That doesn't sound like a very good way to run a country. Then only Shell City has any power."

"Of course it's not a good system, but it's the one we've got, and the only one Shell City are going to allow, since it keeps them in control, so I'm gonna use it to my advantage! One day, I'll be so rich and successful that I'll be a senator! I'll buy out Squilliam and become his boss! I'll have _him _licking _my_ boots clean!"

Spongebob decided not to ask if Squidward had ever been forced to lick Squilliam's boots clean. Instead, he said,

"Squidward, you don't wear boots. You don't even wear shoes."

Squidward frowned at him.

"Don't question me. I'm enjoying my fantasy."

Suddenly, there was the sound of a ringing alarm.

"Barnacles! I'm gonna be late! Damn it, Spongebob, this is all your fault!"

"AAAHHHH!" screamed Spongebob. The two of them bolted from the Easter Island head and raced down the road.

"Bye guys," called Patrick, waving lazily.

The two employees of the Krusty Krab ran all the way to their place of work, Squidward berating Spongebob as they ran.

When they burst in through the double doors, Mr. Krabs was waiting for them.

"You're two minutes late, boys! This tardiness will not be accepted! If you're late again by so much as five seconds, there'll be strict sanctions!"

"Sure thing, Mr. Krabs," panted Squidward ambivalently, sitting down at the cash register.

Spongebob, on the other hand, burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Krabs! I promise I'll never do it again! I love it here! Please don't fire me!"

"Calm down, lad," said Krabs. "It's not serious. Just don't do it again."

"Aye, aye, sir," sniffed Spongebob, saluting. "Never again."

"Good. Now get into the kitchen and start cooking."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

All morning, Spongebob kept snivelling, in spite of Mr. Krabs telling him repeatedly to get a hold of himself.

Eventually, Squidward could take the whining no longer.

"Shut up, for Neptune's sake!" he screamed at Spongebob.

Spongebob silenced for a moment, then burst into tears.

"I- I'm sorry, Squidward!" he sobbed. "I- I just…"

Squidward's expression softened slightly. Damn it, why could he never stay angry at crying people?

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just stop crying. You don't need to be upset, it's not like anyone's really angry at you." He folded his arms and turned away.

Spongebob was dense, but even he could pick up on the comfort in Squidward's words. He sniffed and wiped away his tears.

* * *

Shortly after lunch, Mr. Krabs sent Spongebob out to buy more sauce.

"But Mr. Krabs, what about the orders? Who's gonna cook the food?" asked Squidward, confused and irritated that Spongebob got to take a break.

"That, Mr. Squidward, would be your job." Mr. Krabs handed Squidward Spongebob's spatula and walked away. Squidward looked at the instrument of cooking in his hands and heaved a sigh.

"This'll be fun."

* * *

Squidward didn't think he was doing too badly at this cooking malarkey. Spongebob had it pretty easy, really. He failed to hear the cries of aggravation from outside the kitchen.

"He burnt my patty!"

"He burnt my fries!"

"He burnt my shake!"

"My sandwich tastes like a fried boot!"

"My sandwich is a fried boot!"

Squidward paid them no heed. In his mind's eye, he was a culinary master, capable of cooking anything to perfection. He was so good, he could easily put any restaurants of Squilliam's out of business. He was, of course, worth a million of Squilliam any day, as his dear mother had told him that day he had fought Squilliam. He remembered pummelling Squilliam's face in with relish, after tolerating months of abuse from him. Several of the other members of the high school marching band had cheered. So what if Squilliam's 'friends' had stepped in and beaten the tar out of him? It had been a victory in his eyes, and his beloved mother had healed his wounds afterwards. And he hadn't cried once. At all. Oh, how he missed his mother. He closed his eyes and swam joyfully in happy memories of his time with her.

Distracted as he was, Squidward failed to notice what was happening to the Krabby Patties before him until they burst into flame. He stood back and stared at his handiwork admiringly.

"Amazing! It's like I'm a master chef!" He grinned at the towering column of fire. What was in those patties that produced such an enormous flame, anyway? Squidward only began to become concerned when he noticed that the fire had reached the wooden roof, which was now smoking.

The door burst open.

"Squidward! What the barnacles are you doing, you moron!" screamed Mr. Krabs. "You're gonna destroy me restaurant!"

Squidward grimaced. This wasn't good.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The scream indicated that Spongebob had returned and was now running around the kitchen in a mad panic. Squidward had forgotten the sponge's annoyingly crippling phobia of open flames. You would think that that phobia wouldn't be a problem underwater, but of course, this story, like the show, did not obey the laws of physics. Spongebob bowled over Mr. Krabs, who rolled around on the floor helplessly, struggling to get up and save his pride and joy. Squidward panicked.

"AAGH! What do we do, what do we do?!" he yelled.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" replied Spongebob.

"Good plan. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" yelled Squidward, running around in circles in imitation of Spongebob.

The door burst open once again and an enormous, burly lobster burst in, wielding a fire extinguisher.

"Out of the way, you idiots!" he yelled, spraying vast quantities of foam at the conflagration, which finally died down with limited damage to the building.

"Whew!" exclaimed Squidward, wiping his brow in relief. "Good thing I didn't panic!"

"Good thing you had at least one fire extinguisher in this restaurant and we didn't need any more," said the lobster, tossing aside the empty canister.

"Huh?" said Mr. Krabs, getting to his feet at last. "We have three fire extinguishers. I should know, they cost me a fortune. $36 for three fire extinguishers! Can you believe the rip-off, boys?"

"Well, I only found one," shrugged the lobster. "Where are the other two hidden?"

Krabs looked very confused.

"That's strange. I'm certain they're all together."

The lobster looked confused.

"Well, whatever. I'm Larry, by the way. Larry the Lobster."

Larry extended a claw. Mr. Krabs shook it. Squidward smirked at the way Mr. Krabs' was dwarfed by Larry's.

"Thanks for the save, Larry," said Krabs, forcing a smile. "That was nearly a disaster, all thanks to Squidward." He scowled at the octopus in question, who gave him an unimpressed frown in return.

"That's where you're wrong, Krabs!" cried a familiar, deep and extremely evil voice from the pile of foam. "This wasn't entirely the octopus' fault and it has indeed proven to be a disaster!"

Plankton burst forth from the foam, holding a Krabby Patty aloft and cackling extremely evilly because he's evil.

"Plankton!" cried Krabs. "Where the devil did you come from?!"

"BLAHAHAHAA! This was all my evil plan, Krabs! First, I stole most of your sauce so that Spongebob would have to go shopping for more, leaving Squidward to do the cooking! Then I replaced all your cooking oil with lighter fuel, which combined with Squidward's shoddy cooking skills meant that there would definitely be a fire!"

"My cooking skills are not shoddy!" yelled Squidward.

"Shut up, Squidward!" yelled Mr. Krabs.

"After that, I coated all of your Krabby Patties in flame-retardant material to protect them from the conflagration! Then I hid your other two fire extinguishers and hid myself inside that one there, which you would have to use! Now I have a Krabby Patty and I am unstoppable! BLAHAHAHAA!"

"Damn you and your absurdly convoluted plans to get me formula, Plankton!" roared Krabs.

"I have a question," asked Squidward.

"What?!" asked Plankton irritably.

"Why didn't you just steal a Krabby Patty when you were coating them with flame-retardant material?"

Plankton blinked.

"Well, that would just be too easy, and I wouldn't have a chance to gloat."

Squidward raised an eyebrow.

"I think your urge to gloat will cost you dearly."

"Like hell it will!" laughed Plankton. "None of you can stop me! I have a Krabby Patty now! BLAHAHAHAA!"

"Stop laughing like that!" yelled Squidward.

Plankton bolted for the door, still clutching the Krabby Patty.

"You'll never catch me, Krabs! Your secret formula is finally mine!"

"Get him, boys!" yelled Krabs. Spongebob dived for Plankton, but the microscopic mastermind leapt from his grip.

"Get him, Sadie!" yelled Larry. A woman Spongebob recognised as his friend Sadie kicked Plankton into the air as he ran past her. Squidward threw his hat like a javelin, ensnaring the little microbe. Redundant adjectives FTW. When the hat landed, Larry put his foot down over the entrance. Krabs picked the hat up, tipped out Plankton and handed the hat back to Squidward.

"You suck, Plankton."

Plankton scowled up at his rival.

"You win this time, Krabs, but one day, I will defeat you!"

Krabs sneered at him.

"Whatever, Plankton. After all these years of your failures, I'm not really afraid your threats. Go back to your crappy excuse for a restaurant."

Mr. Krabs hurled Plankton as hard as he could, sending the little microbe crashing through the doors of the Chum Bucket.

"Why do you bother?" asked his computer wife, Karen.

"I don't know," said Plankton, standing up and brushing himself off. "I guess I need something to do, or I'd just wallow in my endless depression in here."

* * *

"Thanks for your help, you two," said Krabs to Sadie and Larry. "Between the two of you, you practically saved my restaurant."

Squidward scowled.

"Yeah, that was an awesome kick, Sadie!" congratulated Spongebob.

Sadie smiled.

"Thanks, Spongebob. It was nothing really. I just wanted to do my best to stop that little bastard."

"You don't seem to like Plankton, Sadie," observed Spongebob intelligently.

"Who does?" asked Sadie.

Spongebob shrugged.

"Why don't you sit with us a while, Spongebob?" Sadie invited him. "You don't have any orders to fill at the moment, do you?"

Spongebob shook his head and sat down at Sadie and Larry's table.

"So, you two are friends?" he asked.

"We're dating, actually," said Sadie.

"Oh, that's great!" exclaimed Spongebob. Inwardly, he was even more pleased for Sadie than he let on. He'd heard only recently about the horrible fate of Sadie's old husband, Fred; she was such a nice person that she deserved a good relationship.

"Yeah, we met a year or so ago and I just moved here from another state," smiled Larry. "I've heard a lot about you from Sadie, Spongebob; apparently, you're just about the friendliest person in Bikini Bottom."

Spongebob blushed.

"I suppose I'm quite friendly, yeah…"

Larry grinned.

"That's great. Is there anyone you wouldn't be friendly too?"

Spongebob thought.

"Well, obviously anyone who's really evil, or anyone who tries to hurt me or my friends… but otherwise, no, I try to be friendly with the world and make it a better place."

Spongebob chose not to add his following thought. _As a means of atonement_…

Larry smiled.

"That's a relief."

He lowered his voice.

"So, you wouldn't mind that I'm from Shell City?"

Spongebob was surprised. He shook his head.

"No, I don't hate anyone from Shell City, even though I don't like Shell City itself and the way it does things. There's nothing wrong with its people though."

Larry smiled with relief.

"That's great. I've been kind of worried that the people around here would become kind of hostile if I told them where I was from."

Spongebob stroked his chin.

"I think you'd be fine as long as you didn't tell the old people or the war veterans. They'd probably get annoyed. Don't tell Mr. Krabs, for example. He fought in the war and he lost his wife because of it."

Larry nodded.

"Thanks for the heads up."

They were silent for a moment.

"So, you going to the Dutchnight carnival in a few days, Spongebob?" asked Larry cheerfully.

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Spongebob. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

"Assuming nobody dies…" murmured Sadie.

Spongebob cringed. Of course, Sadie would not be looking forward to the anniversary of her husband's death. And that of Squidward's mother. And that of Spongebob's own beloved grandmother. And that of somebody else. Spongebob wondered uneasily if there really would be another death.

"Of course, that's not a topic we should focus on in such an enjoyable atmosphere," smiled Sadie. Larry and Spongebob nodded eagerly. Spongebob looked across the room to where Squidward was sat hunched over with a moody expression by the cash register.

"What do you suppose is up with him?" asked Sadie, following Spongebob's gaze.

Spongebob forced a laugh.

"Oh, he's probably just annoyed nobody thanked him for helping stop Plankton."

Sadie smiled.

"Well, maybe you should be the one to do so."

Spongebob looked surprised.

"What do you mean?"

"Go congratulate him for his efforts. It was a splendid throw on his part. You should do it; after all, you are probably Squidward's best friend."

Spongebob was surprised.

"I am surprised," he said. "You really think I'm Squidward's best friend? I mean…" he went red and looked down in embarrassment, "I just annoy him more than anything else…"

Sadie smiled gently.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Spongebob, but Squidward really enjoys the wacky hijinks with you, as much as he yells. The yelling itself is a sign that he's enjoying himself. Squidward is usually so calm and quietly moody, but with you, he really gets excited. I think Squidward enjoys his time with you more than anything else."

Spongebob blushed, feeling very pleased with himself.

"It's good that Squidward has a friend like you, Spongebob," Sadie continued. "Everybody needs somebody to turn to in times of need, to cheer them up when they're down, to protect them from harm."

She laughed.

"I mean, I've got Larry."

She nuzzled up against the burly lobster, who blushed bright red and smiled down at her.

"Squidward needs you. And after all, the poor man needs some kind of joy in his life for once, miserable bugger that he is."

She chuckled. Her face suddenly grew slightly darker.

"We know how much Squidward's suffered, but only the Dutchman knows how much he will suffer in the future."

Spongebob frowned. That was an odd and rather morbid thing to say.

"I mean, life is never without suffering. Squidward, like everyone else, will need someone to guide him through whatever he has to face and support him."

Spongebob nodded. Sadie was right. He had to support Squidward through any hardship. He was Squidward's best friend in the world. He would always stand by Squidward's side and protect him from harm.

"So, Spongebob Squarepants; will you go with Squidward Tentacles to the depths of hell if duty requires it?" asked Sadie, a hint of a smirk on her face.

Spongebob grinned.

"You bet! I'll stand by Squidward through thick and thin!"

"Good lad!" grinned Larry. "That's the spirit! You're talking like a real man!"

Spongebob inwardly squealed with joy. He was being so mature here that he was being praised as a man! Therefore, he should probably stop squealing, regardless of whether it was out loud or not.

"That's good, Spongebob. Now you go praise that miserable octopus for his throwing skillz."

Spongebob nodded and saluted. With a beam, he dashed over to the cash register. Larry smiled after him.

"What a nice kid. You know, Sadie, you need to stop being so creepy all the time."

Sadie smiled at him.

"I can't help it, darling. I'm a victim of trauma."

Spongebob ran up to the cash register with flailing arms and a broad grin.

"Hey! Hey, Squidward!"

Squidward opened an eye and stared at Spongebob dully.

"What do you want?"

Spongebob's grin widened.

"I just wanted to tell you that earlier, when you threw your hat at Plankton, that was really awesome! I mean you just threw it straight at him, dead on target, like some kind of ninja javelin! It was really awesome! I couldn't believe how nobody had said anything to you about it yet, but Sadie and Larry wanted you to know that they thought it was really cool too!"

Squidward's expression did not change.

"That's great, Spongebob. Leave me alone."

"Sure thing, Squidward!" Spongebob saluted happily and ran off, still beaming.

Squidward raised his magazine to hide the slight smile that had formed on his face.

Spongebob strolled back into the kitchen and smiled down at the Krabby Patties. He was proud of what he'd accomplished today. He was a good friend. He was a better person here in Bikini Bottom. He remembered his promise to Sadie. He would look after Squidward. He would follow Squidward into the depths of hell if duty called for it.

* * *

Several hours later, Squidward Tentacles was sat on his sofa, watching TV. He thought over the events of the day. They had, of course, been annoying for the most part, but Spongebob's congratulations had somehow touched him, idiotic as they were. The fool had somehow reminded him somewhat of his mother. Squidward smiled to himself.

There was a knock at the door.

* * *

You will lose… yourself.

You will lose… me.

You will lose… what is dearest to you.

You will lose… everything.

I… will take everything from you.

All that remains… will be ashes.

When the Scallops Cry, Pain Arc

Part Two: Iron Maiden

Can you believe?

* * *

Yeah, interesting things, yeah. This arc comes with a drinking game; take a shot every time Spongebob mentions saving/protecting/helping etc. Squidward. It comes up so freaking much, especially in the later chapters. Whoever wrote this must have a serious lack of imagination.


	12. Pain - Iron Maiden

And introducing the story's biggest dickface...

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Pain Arc

Part Two – Iron Maiden

* * *

Spongebob awoke. The scallops were crying. He was about to leap from his bed to visit Squidward, but remembered how angry Squidward had been the day before. Perhaps he should just watch the sunrise alone. Patrick was having a lie-in today anyway.

Spongebob sat by his window, frowning. This just wasn't as fun alone. More than that, it was just boring. Why would anybody want to read a story about a guy sat by himself watching the sun rise?

Once the sun had risen, Spongebob prepared himself to go to work. He fed Gary, fed himself and left. He would not be late today. He looked at Squidward's house as he walked past. Strangely, he could hear the sounds of somebody walking around and a nasally voice shouting. Odd. Squidward wasn't usually up yet. Perhaps he, too, had decided that he had to make sure he was in on time today. Spongebob smiled to himself. He really was making a difference to Squidward. A good difference.

He reached the Krusty Krab early and happily waited outside for Mr. Krabs to arrive.

"Morning, lad!" said Mr. Krabs, grinning as he opened the door. "Good to see you're making an effort to get in on time!"

Spongebob returned the grin.

"Yeah, I really don't want to be late ever again! I think Squidward was getting ready to come in early too! I heard him up and about much earlier than usual this morning!"

Mr. Krabs raised an eyebrow.

"Squidward? Come in early? That'll be the day."

Spongebob smiled, but inwardly he disapproved of Mr. Krabs' remark. _People shouldn't doubt Squidward like that_, thought Spongebob.

Despite Spongebob's mental support, however, Squidward appeared to be letting them down. Half an hour later, the Krusty Krab was open, customers were beginning to arrive and there was no sign of Squidward.

"Spongebob!" barked Mr. Krabs, scuttling over to him.

"Yes, Mr. Krabs?" said Spongebob. He turned round, saluted and forced a smile.

"Where the barnacles is Squidward? I thought you said he was up already!"

Spongebob looked worried.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Krabs. I mean, he was definitely up, and awake, and talking, so I thought he'd be in on time, but…"

He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Mr. Krabs stroked his chin.

"Hmm. I'm gonna have to punish him if he doesn't show up soon. I'll take money out of his pay cheque. That's always good."

Krabs scuttled away. Spongebob continued to look worried. If Squidward was ill, he'd have called in to say so. Why wasn't he coming? Could he be too ill to even reach the phone? Spongebob considered going round to Squidward's to find out what was wrong, but that would leave the Krusty Krab unmanned. As it was, he was taking the orders, cooking them and managing the cash register alone. The restaurant would come to a standstill if he left.

Another half an hour later, there was still no sign of Squidward. Spongebob was becoming agitated.

"I'm gonna take off a dollar for every half hour he's late," growled Krabs, scuttling back and forth impatiently.

Sadie approached Spongebob, looking concerned.

"Has there been no sign of Squidward?" she asked.

Spongebob nodded.

Sadie looked grim.

"I see," she said gravely.

She walked back to her table without another word. For some reason, she seemed unwilling to take another bite out of her burger. After a few minutes, she left the restaurant entirely. Spongebob hurriedly cleared away her unfinished Krabby Patty, her behaviour worrying him even more. _What could be wrong with Squidward_?

The double doors swung open and Spongebob's question was answered.

There was something very wrong with Squidward. There were enormous red/purple bags around his eyes. He was dirty, something the usual Squidward, a complete neat freak, would never allow. His arms hung loosely by his sides. But it was his eyes that really terrified Spongebob when he looked at his friend.

The cold, dead look in Squidward's eyes.

That was what really scared him; the fact that Squidward Tentacles looked dead.

* * *

For the next few hours, Spongebob honestly thought that Squidward seemed like he really was dead. There was not a single order he took correctly. He barely said a word, even in complaint. He totally ignored Mr. Krabs' scolding, which eventually ceased as the Krusty Krab's boss also realised just how bad a state Squidward was in.

Eventually, Spongebob and Mr. Krabs decided to take Squidward aside.

"Squidward, what's wrong?" asked Mr. Krabs. "You look awful and you're acting weird. What's up?"

Squidward shook his head slowly.

"No problem here, Mr. Krabs," he replied in a monotone. "I'm fine."

Spongebob shook his head.

"Don't bother lying to us, Squidward," he said. "We know there's something wrong. You've gotta tell us what it is, so we can help you with it. You can count on us, you know? We're your friends."

Squidward looked down his nose at Spongebob, haughty as ever, even now.

"Leave me alone, Spongebob. I'm fine. And don't kid yourself. We're not friends. I hate you."

Spongebob reeled back, looking hurt.

"What the hell, Squidward? There was no need to be a dick to the boy! We're trying to help you!"

"Leave me alone. I don't need any help. I hate all of you."

Krabs glared at Squidward. Spongebob's lip trembled. Every moment Squidward spoke in that horrible voice, devoid of life or emotion, was breaking his heart a little more.

"Fine," said Krabs. "If you don't want our help, you won't get it."

He turned and stalked away. Spongebob looked up at Squidward pleadingly. Squidward simply stared in the opposite direction. Tears welled in Spongebob's eyes. How could he help Squidward if he didn't even know what was wrong? How could he help if Squidward wouldn't even admit he needed help?

* * *

For hours, Spongebob worriedly wondered what could be wrong with Squidward. The answer presented itself during the lunch 'rush hour'.

Spongebob looked at the packed Krusty Krab. It was lunchtime and the restaurant was full to bursting with hungry customers. The problem was, most of them were getting very frustrated with the poor service at the cash register.

"First you can't cook, now you can't even take orders?!" yelled Harold angrily. "Why don't they just fire you?!"

Squidward said nothing while Spongebob peered at him worriedly.

Suddenly, the double doors burst open. A small crowd of twenty or so people were stood outside. At their centre was a grinning, unibrowed octopus, dressed in the finest designer silks. Spongebob recognised him instantly.

Squilliam Fancyson.

Mr. Krabs' eyes lit up at the thought of such a wealthy senator visiting the restaurant, and with such a large group of friends too.

Squilliam strode in and surveyed the Krusty Krab with an aloof sneer.

"Well, hello there, commoners," he announced in a nasally voice even more obnoxious than Squidward's. The whole restaurant had stopped what they were doing to look at the newcomer.

"My name is Squilliam Fancyson, for those fools among you who don't know. I am the wealthiest man in Panmarin and one of the most powerful senators, second only to the President himself. Who would like to kiss my feet?"

The whole restaurant stayed stationary. Squilliam's lip curled.

"Whatever."

He suddenly looked at the cash register and his face lit up with a cruel grin.

"Squidy! So this is where you work, huh?! What a quality establishment!"

Squilliam strode over to the cash register and shoved his face up against Squidward's.

"How you doing, Squidy? Having fun, here at the… what was it called? Krummy Krab or something?"

Squidward said nothing. He simply stared at the floor and trembled slightly.

"Come on, Squidward! Don't give me the silent treatment!"

Squilliam smacked Squidward's cheeks a couple of times. Squidward continued to stare at the floor.

"Hey! Don't hit Squidward!" yelled Spongebob angrily. One of Squilliam's cronies, a large, scowling bodyguard type, pushed the indignant sponge away effortlessly.

"Look here, Mr. Fancyson," said Krabs, scowling. "We don't appreciate any manhandling of our employees here. Would you like to order anything, or not?"

Squilliam raised his eyebrow and smirked.

"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Krusty. Obviously, the workers here should be treated with utmost respect. Right, guys?"

Squilliam's cohorts nodded, smiling meanly. Spongebob noticed his friend Tom among them, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"So, people, what do we want to eat?" asked Squilliam, looking again to his cronies.

* * *

Within minutes, Squilliam and his gang were seated, with heaps upon heaps of food placed on a large number of tables put together. Many customers had been forced to leave to make space for the mob. Spongebob was outraged to see the amount of food being wasted. They were taking one or two bites out of something then putting it down, or worse, throwing it on the floor. The whole group were constantly yelling, much of it abuse, directed at the Krusty Krab and its patrons. Mr. Krabs stood beside them, seething.

"The money had better be worth this…" he growled between clenched teeth.

All the while, Squidward simply sat at the cash register, examining his feet in silence.

"I think we're about done here, guys!" called Squilliam, despite having eaten nothing himself and most of the food remaining, be it on the floor or on the table. He and his cronies stood and turned for the exit.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fancyson," called Krabs. "You don't seem to have paid yet."

Squilliam turned, grinning.

"Oops! Silly me, I completely forgot."

Squilliam rummaged through his pocket and produced a single quarter.

"There you go!"

Squilliam tossed the coin at Squidward's forehead. It bounced off and landed on the floor with a clatter. Squilliam again turned to leave, only to find his way blocked by Mr. Krabs.

"What seems to be the matter, Krabby?" asked Squilliam, sneering.

Mr. Krabs glared.

"Look here, Fancypants. I don't care if you're King bloody Neptune. Nobody leaves without paying in my restaurant. Cough up."

Squilliam smirked back at Krabs, unimpressed.

"I think you'll find there is one person who leaves without paying in your crappy excuse for a restaurant, Krabs. That person is Squilliam Fancyson, the guy who _surpasses _King Neptune. Got that?"

Krabs raised his claws and moved closer to Squilliam. He opened his mouth to speak, but Squilliam cut him off.

"_Please_ don't try to _threaten_ me, Krabs. It wouldn't be good business. I may have to arrange to have you _laid off_."

Krabs suddenly became aware of Squilliam's hulking bodyguards gathered around. He lowered his claws, still glaring.

"Wise decision, Krabby. I'll see you later, Squidward!"

With those words, Squilliam left the restaurant, the seething crab glaring after him.

"Man, what a dick," said Plankton, stood on the table holding a Krabby Patty. He put it down. "I was gonna try stealing a Krabby Patty from you by sneaking in in one of their pockets, but that was so disgusting I'm gonna call a temporary truce. Now I'm gonna leave, before you take your anger out on me."

Plankton dashed away, looking downcast.

* * *

Squidward left before Spongebob, who stayed behind after closing time, cleaning the floors. He left in the same state he'd been in all day.

After another half an hour, Spongebob was done and ready to go home. He left the Krusty Krab and locked the door with the spare key, to be deposited through Mr. Krabs' mail slot when he passed it.

As he left the building, however, he noticed a police boat parked in the parking lot. A policewoman got out and approached him.

"Good evening, officer. I'm afraid we're closed right now."

The woman shook her head.

"That's not what I'm here for. Are you Spongebob Squarepants?"

He nodded.

"My name is Detective Nancy O'Malley, of the Bikini Bottom Police Department."

"Pleased to meet you."

"I have some questions to ask you. Is a Mr. Squidward Tentacles in right now?"

Spongebob frowned. What did this woman want with Squidward?

"Er, no, he's gone home already."

"I see."

Spongebob cocked his head.

"Why do you want to know about Squidward?"

She looked up at him from her notebook.

"That's none of your business."

Spongebob's frown increased.

"Hey, Squidward's my friend. I have a right to know what's going on. Is he in trouble of some kind? Because you should know that there's no way Squidward would ever have done something wro-!"

Spongebob was suddenly cut off by O'Malley seizing his shoulder. She scowled down at him.

"Listen, Mr. Squarepants. You're going to mind your own business and answer all my questions, or I'm going to have to force the answers out of you."

Spongebob glared defiantly back.

"You can't force me to do anything! I know my rights!"

O'Malley's mouth curled into a humourless smirk.

"I'm afraid I can force you if I have to, Mr. Squarepants. You see, this state has a police force set up by and managed directly from Shell City. Because of the troublesome nature of this state, the police force has been granted all kinds of administrative powers normally considered violations of rights. We can do anything we like to get answers out of you."

As she spoke, she continually applied more pressure to Spongebob's shoulder. Spongebob winced.

"So you see, it doesn't pay to make any enemies among the police. It's always best just to shut up and _do as they say_."

"Detective O'Malley!"

O'Malley turned in surprise. A purple fish dressed in a doctor's uniform was stood outside the parking lot.

"Ah, Doctor Forrest," said O'Malley, smiling coldly at the doctor. "How are you?"

Forrest stared back at her.

"I'm fine, thank you, Detective. However, you seem to be causing that boy pain. I'd recommend you let go of him. The Bikini Bottom Police Department have many rarely granted powers, but manhandling civilians not implicated in any crimes is not one of them."

O'Malley's smile frosted even more as she stepped away from Spongebob.

"Of course, Doctor. You're right. I should be more careful. I lost my temper a little, is all."

She turned back to Spongebob.

"My apologies, Mr. Squarepants. Next time, I'll make sure you've been implicated in a crime before I manhandle you. Have a pleasant evening."

O'Malley strode back to her car and drove away.

Dr. Forrest walked over to Spongebob.

"Are you alright, Mr. Squarepants?"

Spongebob nodded, rubbing his shoulder ruefully.

"She wasn't very nice," he commented, watching O'Malley's car disappear into the distance.

"Hmm. She has a tendency to be a bit rough. Most of the police do, but those emotionally involved in their work tend to be even worse."

He turned to Spongebob.

"You look like you're in pain. Would you like to come back to the hospital with me so I can have a look at that? My car's just down the road."

Spongebob nodded gratefully.

* * *

Spongebob removed his shirt and Dr. Forrest examined his shoulder.

"Hmm. There's quite a bit of bruising, but no serious damage done. Just don't put too much strain on it for a day or two and you'll be fine."

"Thanks, Doc." Spongebob shrugged his shirt back on.

He looked at Dr. Forrest inquisitively.

"Earlier, you said that Detective O'Malley was 'emotionally involved' in her work, or something. What did you mean?"

Forrest sighed.

"Yes, Detective O'Malley is very emotionally involved in her work. You know about the Dutchnight murders, correct?"

Spongebob nodded. If this was to do with the Dutchnight murders, what did O'Malley want with Squidward?

"Dutchnight is very soon, of course, so Detective O'Malley is very fired up, in case there is another murder. She has been deeply involved with these murders from the beginning and I think that it was a careless decision on the part of the police force to allow her to lead the investigation. You see, she was a close, personal friend of the first victim, Fred Rechid."

Spongebob gasped. Did that mean she knew Sadie as well? He couldn't imagine Sadie keeping such unpleasant company.

"Since the murders began, she has been obsessively hunting down any leads, throwing around conspiracy theories, accusing all kinds of people with very little evidence to support her claims… the one person she thinks is definitely innocent is the man who was arrested for the fourth murder. She has been very irresponsible and so have her superiors."

"So what does this have to do with Squidward?" asked Spongebob, confused.

"Is that why she was interrogating you?" asked Forrest. Spongebob nodded.

"I see. Yes, Squidward Tentacles has always been one of her favourite suspects for the murders."

Spongebob gasped.

"You mean she seriously thinks _Squidward_ could have murdered anybody?! One of the victims was his own mother, for Neptune's sake!"

"I know. Actually, that's the one she's most certain he was responsible for, along with the fourth. For those ones, she claims to actually have evidence for once, although I've never seen any such evidence."

Spongebob was shocked. How could she think such a thing?! Squidward would never hurt anybody, least of all his own mother! Squidward had shown Spongebob that he had adored his mother more than anyone!

"I'll admit, some of her arguments would make sense if there existed any evidence to support them, but the simple fact of the matter is that there is no proof whatsoever. Detective O'Malley is quite simply raving. I am positive that Squidward Tentacles is innocent."

Spongebob stopped. There was a hint of doubt in Forrest's eyes. Surely he couldn't suspect Squidward too?

"Are you sure, Doc? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you're sure Squidward's innocent."

Forrest smiled gently and then stared into Spongebob's eyes.

"I am certain that Squidward Tentacles has never committed a crime," he said firmly, without a hint of doubt.

Spongebob nodded, satisfied with this answer, failing to notice the blatant careful phrasing of the sentence.

"Mr. Squarepants?"

"Yes?"

Forrest was looking at him with a very deep look in his eyes.

"May I ask you a favour?"

Spongebob cautiously nodded.

"If Detective O'Malley is giving Squidward trouble, he may be in for a rough time ahead. I would like to ask you to look after Squidward. I'm not asking you to go against the police, I just think… well, he needs some emotional support, and from what I hear, you're his best friend. I'm just asking you to be there for him. He and I used to be friends, you see, and I was very close to his mother. I can do little to help him, as he is very distant nowadays, but you can still protect Squidward, and I humbly ask you to do so."

Spongebob thought, feeling worried. Squidward obviously had some kind of problem now, and not only could Spongebob do nothing about it, Squidward refused to even accept his help. It seemed that everyone was relying on Spongebob to protect Squidward, yet he was failing dramatically at this task right now.

However, Spongebob did not voice these thoughts. Instead, he gave another cautious nod.

"Sure thing, Doc. I'll watch Squidward's back."

The purple doctor smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, Mr. Squarepants. I really appreciate that."

Spongebob returned the smile in spite of his feelings. Forrest was relying on him. Sadie was relying on him. But Squidward refused to rely on him. As things were going, he was failing everybody. But still, Spongebob said nothing of these thoughts.

Forrest leaned back in his chair.

"Well then, if that's everything, would you like a lift home?"

Spongebob shook his head.

"Thanks, but it's not very far to my house from here, so I'll just walk."

Forrest nodded.

"Very well. I'll see you another time then, Mr. Squarepants."

"See you, Doc."

Spongebob left with a small wave and trudged home in silence with only his thoughts for company. He tried to sort out the events of the day in his head. Squidward had been late and was acting strangely. Squilliam had shown up at the Krusty Krab and had been an absolute dick. Could Squilliam have something to do with Squidward's odd behaviour? Surely not. Spongebob desperately hoped not.

Then there had been Detective O'Malley and her interrogation. Her insane belief that Squidward could have killed his mother. Spongebob thought. So O'Malley believed that the Dutchnight murders weren't remotely supernatural and had nothing to do with a curse by the Flying Dutchman? Spongebob wondered if maybe somebody was trying to use the curse story to cover up their murders. Squidward could never do something like that. Maybe, if the killer was framing the Flying Dutchman, they could also be framing Squidward for the people who didn't believe in the curse. That could make sense. So O'Malley was just being deceived and manipulated. That made her seem less dislikeable, which was good. Spongebob hated hating people.

There was, of course, an alternative theory; the Dutchman's curse was real. There was no reason that theory wasn't just as valid as the first. Or, there could be a third option, though what that could be Spongebob had no idea.

Spongebob was so lost in his somewhat morbid thoughts that he almost missed his own garden path. To his surprise, his friend Tom was walking up the road towards him.

"Hey Tom!" he called waving. He stopped suddenly, remembering Tom's presence in the Krusty Krab earlier. Even if he hadn't looked like he was enjoying himself, he'd been with Squilliam.

Tom approached.

"Hey Spongebob," he said wearily, raising a hand in greeting. "Look, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened earlier, in the Krusty Krab. Squilliam's a massive dick."

Spongebob raised an eyebrow.

"So why do you hang out with him?"

Tom sighed.

"I can't really help it. I got involved with him through a friend of mine, then I borrowed some money off of him… I can't really get away, so I'm just his little whipping boy at the moment. It really sucks. Everyone just ignores my opinions, too, so I can't do anything to make the others behave themselves."

Tom looked guiltily in the direction of Squidward's house.

"I feel really bad for Squidward. I wish I could do something to help him out, but like I said, I can't."

His eyes glazed slightly.

"It's weird to think that we used to be friends a few years ago, during the Percy Plan War."

Spongebob was surprised.

"You and Squidward used to be friends?"

Tom nodded.

"Oh yeah. Back during the PPW, we were both part of the small group of people supporting the Plan."

Spongebob blinked. He had no idea that Squidward had even been in favour of the Plan. Maybe he wasn't as close a friend as he thought he was.

"We were quite the little team, we were… there was also Sadie, who you know, and… my old friend Fred…"

Spongebob frowned. So Tom had been friends with the first Dutchnight victim as well, the one who lost his legs… Sadie's husband.

Something suddenly struck Spongebob as odd. Something Tom had said.

"Hey, Tom?"

"Hm?" Spongebob's voice brought the fish out of his melancholy inner monologue.

"Why did you say that you felt bad for Squidward? Is something wrong with him?"

Tom frowned sadly.

"Didn't you know, Spongebob?"

Spongebob frowned too.

"Know what?"

Tom pointed over Spongebob's shoulder to a figure coming down the road. As the figure drew nearer, Spongebob realised that it was Squidward. He had the same dull look in his eyes. He was dragging two plastic bags along the ground. They clinked as Squidward turned to go down his garden path and Spongebob saw the glass bottles they contained.

"I didn't know Squidward drank," said Spongebob, surprised and concerned.

"It's not for Squidward," replied Tom gravely.

The door of Squidward's house burst open. Stood in the doorway was none other than Squilliam, laughing raucously.

"He's been here since yesterday," added Tom in the same tone. Spongebob could only watch in horror as Squilliam hurled an ashtray at his friend's face, which struck him in the forehead and scattered ash in his eyes. Squilliam slapped Squidward a couple of times and shoved him inside. Only now did Spongebob become aware of the sounds of a raucous party. He could hear people yelling and laughing, various objects breaking, glass shattering, Squilliam's horrible laughter and, worst of all, Squidward's horrifying screams of pain.

And there was nothing Spongebob could do but watch.

* * *

What would you do… to save me?

What would you do… to save yourself?

What would you do… to end this?

What would you do… to be happy?

How far would you go… to save everyone?

When the Scallops Cry, Pain Arc

Part Three: Rack

Can you believe?

* * *

Like I said, massive dickface. At least he'll be gone by the next chapter.


	13. Pain - Rack

Hooray, it's time for MURDER. Murder makes everything better.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Pain Arc

Part Three – Rack

* * *

Spongebob lay awake all night.

He simply lay in his bed, staring at his uninteresting ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of Squidward's torture. Why was he lying here, doing nothing?! He should be trying to help Squidward!

But what could he do against Squilliam and his bodyguards? There were too many of them and he, Spongebob, was pathetically weak.

The problem pervaded in his mind throughout the night and he was unable to sleep. What could he do? Why wasn't he doing it?

He rose early in the morning. Even if he couldn't stop Squilliam, the very least he could do was try to cheer Squidward up, to give him a light, however small, in the darkness. He went round to Squidward's house at six o'clock. Tentatively, he knocked on the door, hoping it would be Squidward who answered and not Squilliam or one of his cronies.

As luck would have it, Squidward opened the door.

Spongebob gasped in horror at Squidward's state. His condition was a hundred times worse than yesterday. His entire body was adorned with bruises, cuts and burns. His dull glare pierced Spongebob like a knife.

"What do you want?" grated Squidward.

Spongebob gulped.

"Er… I- I was just wondering… if maybe… you wanted… to watch the… sunrise…"

"GET OUT!" screamed Squidward, slamming the door in Spongebob's terrified face.

Spongebob could hear more laughter and glass breaking from within. He trembled. Well, that had been effective.

Dejectedly, Spongebob slunk away and trudged in the direction of the Krusty Krab, at least an hour before he needed to be there.

When Mr. Krabs finally arrived, he was smiling.

"Bright and early again, lad?" he called out cheerfully as he approached. He unlocked the door and noticed Spongebob's glum expression.

"What's the matter, boy?" he asked, concerned. He studied Spongebob's face and sighed.

"It's Squidward, isn't it?"

Spongebob looked up, surprised.

"You know about what's happening with Squidward, sir?"

Krabs looked down at him sadly.

"The whole of Bikini Bottom knows, boy. Squilliam hardly kept it a secret."

Spongebob perked up.

"So, if everyone knows, we can all band together and do something to stop it, right? We can save Squidward!"

Krabs frowned sadly and scratched the back of his neck.

"Well… the thing is, boy… I'm not sure anyone will help Squidward."

Spongebob did not understand.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why wouldn't people help him?"

Krabs looked at the floor.

"Well… Squilliam's very powerful. He's not actually doing anyone but Squidward any harm, so people don't see a reason to endanger themselves by making an enemy out of him. It doesn't help that… well… nobody really likes Squidward anyway. Oh, they'll say how terrible it is… but the fact is, Squidward's a jerk. He made a lot of enemies during the Percy Plan War by supporting the Plan, and he lost the few friends he had and pushed the enemies further away by generally being a watered down version of Squilliam with no power; obnoxious, self-centred and rude. Nobody's gonna help him, Spongebob."

Spongebob quivered. _How could the people of Bikini Bottom be so cruel_?!_ Squidward needs their help_!

The injustice of it burned at Spongebob's brain for hours. Squidward eventually showed up at half past ten. Mr. Krabs made no comment on his lateness, only giving Spongebob an apologetic look while the sponge tearfully watched his suffering friend sit gloomily in the small boat where the cash register was located.

A short while into the day, Squidward was handing Scooter his order when he stumbled and dropped the tray. Squidward wordlessly crouched down to pick it up. His shirt lifted to reveal an angry web of crisscrossing scars, clearly slashed into him with glass shards.

A rage previously unknown to Spongebob filled his mind. His fists clenched and his whole body shook. How could Squilliam do this to Squidward?! How could Squilliam be getting away with doing this to Squidward?!

Barely minutes later, Squidward dropped a glass. Before he could bend down to pick up the shattered pieces, however, Spongebob intervened.

"It's OK, Squidward, buddy, I'll get 'em for you."

Spongebob gathered up all the large shards in his hands and stood up straight, facing Squidward with a smile on his face.

Squidward screamed.

It was only too late that Spongebob realised that approaching Squidward with shards of glass, which seemed to be Squilliam's favourite weapon, was not a good idea. Squidward punched Spongebob, knocking him over. The glass shards flew into the air. Several hit Spongebob, causing small cuts. One nicked Squidward's nose. Squidward screamed again and flung himself back, flailing. He doubled over and vomited, still screaming. The whole restaurant was staring in horror, but nobody was _doing_ anything. Spongebob reached out to try to comfort Squidward.

Squidward's screams intensified.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

Squidward slapped Spongebob's hand away and hunched up, backed into a corner, sobbing.

"Please… no more… I'm sorry… Mother… help me… I'm sorry…"

"S-Squidward?" said Mr. Krabs.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

As the Krusty Krab looked on in helpless pity, Spongebob Squarepants made a silent vow.

He would save Squidward. He would save Squidward from the depths of hell and take his place there.

He would kill Squilliam Fancyson.

* * *

Squidward was taken to the hospital to calm down. Spongebob was not worried; he would be in the hands of Dr. Forrest. Forrest was a friend. He would take good care of Squidward. However, Spongebob dreaded ever having to see Forrest's face again, considering his failure to keep yesterday's promise. But this failure would not continue. Spongebob was going to save Squidward.

Despite having the duty of performing both his job and Squidward's, Spongebob was distracted throughout the entire day.

A plan was forming in his mind.

A thought that had crossed his mind the day before had given him the idea.

_The Dutchnight murders_.

Dutchnight was taking place tomorrow. It seemed almost too long to wait, as Squidward was suffering throughout that time. But Spongebob would have to be patient.

The plan was simple. He would kill Squilliam tomorrow night. He would be careful to erase the evidence. The townspeople would blame the murder on the curse of the Flying Dutchman. The collective opinion would keep Detective O'Malley from sniffing around and finding out more than she was supposed to.

But what if O'Malley blamed Squidward? Others might agree with her. With Squidward in his current position, it would seem natural for Squidward to kill Squilliam. He had to arrange an alibi for Squidward. He had to ensure that Squidward was at the Dutchnight carnival tomorrow, so that everybody would see that he was innocent. He could have Sandy and Patrick take him. They were trustworthy. He would tell everyone that he himself was feeling ill.

And if the murder was traced back to him?

So be it. He would suffer the consequences. He had to save Squidward, no matter what the cost. He was Squidward's best friend. He would always be there for him.

Now Spongebob had the simple matter of planning the actual murder. It had to take place somewhere that was out of the way, where there would be no interruptions. The Kelp Forest would be ideal. The whole forest was remote and dense. There was also a small road running through it that could be used as a shortcut to where Spongebob's grandmother had once lived. Spongebob felt guilty about even remotely associating his grandmother with a brutal act like murder, but it was necessary. For Squidward.

By the time work was over, the plan was firmly set in Spongebob's mind. He left the Krusty Krab that evening with a mission.

He was going to kill Squilliam Fancyson.

* * *

Spongebob picked up the phone and carefully dialled in Sandy's number. He knew that he could always rely on Sandy.

"Hello?"

"Hi Sandy, this is Spongebob."

"Howdy Spongebob. What's up?"

Spongebob took a deep breath.

"Sandy, I'm not feeling too good, so I can't come to the Dutchnight carnival tomorrow."

"Aw, well, that's an awful shame."

"You know about Squidward, right?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah, I know about Squidward."

"Could you please take Squidward to the carnival tomorrow, whether he wants to or not? He needs some fun, and he really needs to get away from Squilliam, at least for a while."

There was a pause.

"Sure thing, Spongebob."

Spongebob sighed with relief.

"Oh, and Spongebob?"

"Yes?"

"You're a terrible liar. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, OK?"

Spongebob froze.

"What?"

"Don't do anything stupid. I want to help Squidward, but I don't want anything to happen to you either."

She hung up.

Spongebob stared at the phone for a moment. Had Sandy guessed what he was going to do?

He shrugged and put the phone down. Even if she had, she wouldn't do anything to stop him. She was on his side.

Spongebob got into bed, full of confidence. Tomorrow, he would kill Squilliam. Tomorrow, Squidward would be free.

* * *

Spongebob managed to put off Patrick with claims of illness. He was pleased to see Sandy escorting a slightly frowning Squidward in the direction of the carnival. Excellent. He was in the clear. He could now proceed with the next stage of the plan.

Spongebob cycled deep into the Kelp Forest, down the narrow, winding shortcut. On his back was a shovel. He set his bike down at the farthest point of the road from anywhere and delved still further into the thick tangles of kelp until he found a clearing. The oppressive plants had always scared him, but now he swallowed his fear. He had a job to do. He had to save Squidward.

As he dug, Spongebob thought. Memories of his beloved grandmother filled his mind. He remembered how, after a long day at school, with bullies on all sides picking on him and stealing his things, he would come home to his beloved grandmother's warm embrace and all would be right with the world. He remembered how he felt when she died. That burning, stabbing sensation of loss clawing at his heart, that empty void that nothing could fill. The feeling of all happiness being drained from the world and wondering why he should even bother carrying on living. He was struck by how close his past pains had been to Squidward's. Squidward, who had been tormented endlessly in school by his current torturer, who had only his beloved mother to fall back on for emotional support, only to have her cruelly snatched away from him. Such thoughts only reaffirmed Spongebob's vow. He would save Squidward. He would kill Squilliam. For the sake of not only Squidward, but for Mrs. Tentacles and Grandma Squarepants too.

* * *

Spongebob returned home at five o'clock. He had to wait until he had the cover of darkness to do the deed. He sat in wait in his kitchen until seven, staring at the clock the whole time, except to feed Gary. He smiled as he watched Gary munch away at the food without a care in the world. Gary never had to deal with these horrible situations. _Life_, thought Spongebob, _would be so much simpler if I were a snail_.

Eventually, seven o'clock came. The sky outside was darkening. Spongebob sprang from his chair and strode to the telephone. He took a deep breath then dialled the number for Squidward's house.

He waited with baited breath for a moment.

Someone answered.

"Hello? Who is this?"

Spongebob sighed with relief. It was Squilliam. He cleared his throat and put on a posh, impressive voice, or what he hoped was one, anyway.

"Hello, sir. My name is Artie S. T. Quality."

There was a gasp.

"Artie S. T. Quality?! The famous artist?!"

Spongebob silently thanked Squidward for his dull lectures on supposedly good artists.

"That's me. Is this Senator Squilliam Fancyson?"

"It is!"

"I've heard you're quite the art collector. I've produced a new painting, one I'm rather proud of. I heard you were in the area and, since you are a well-respected and much admired senator, I thought I'd offer you the chance to buy it first!"

Spongebob could have sworn for a second that he'd killed Squilliam with a heart attack then and there.

"You really mean that, Mr. Quality?!"

"Of course. It would be an honour to have my work hang in your halls."

All of this ass-kissing of the guy he despised for his treatment of Squidward and would therefore murder later that night was making Spongebob's mouth feel as dirty as though he were literally kissing Squilliam's ass.

"So, where should we meet?!" asked Squilliam eagerly.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to invite you to my studio."

"Oh, that's not a problem at all, sir! Where is it?"

Spongebob smirked to himself.

"It's located near the Jellyfish Fields. It's quite a long way from where you are now, so allow me to recommend a shortcut."

"Oh, thank you very much, Mr. Quality! Give me the directions and I'll write them down!"

Spongebob heard the furious scribbling of pen on paper as he listed the directions. When he was done, he added the final touch, just to be safe.

"Oh, and Mr. Fancyson?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like this transaction to be entirely private. I might get into trouble if I was seen to be privately selling my works to specific individuals in a biased manner. Do come alone, won't you?"

"Of course! That's not a problem at all."

Spongebob's smirk widened. Perfect.

"Alright then, Mr. Fancyson. I'll see you shortly."

"Yes, see you in a minute, Mr. Quality!"

Squilliam hung up.

Spongebob leapt onto his bike and pedalled as hard as he could. For the third time that day, he had to travel the lengthy distance between his house and the murder spot, and this time, he was on a tight schedule. Squilliam would be taking the motorcycle that he'd seen parked outside Squidward's house a couple of times but hadn't been mentioned. Fortunately, he was leaving just before Squilliam, and he'd deliberately given him directions that would cause him to take a long time getting to the Kelp Forest. All the same, Spongebob had to pedal harder than he'd pedalled in his life just to reach the area in time.

* * *

It had begun to rain.

Spongebob lay in wait, surrounded by tangles of kelp. He was almost invisible despite being barely feet away from the road. He clutched the shovel tightly. He had to be careful not to spill any blood; that would leave evidence that would be hard to dispose of.

The rain hammered down on his head. Water trickled down the long kelp vines. The sky was dark and cloudy. Spongebob imagined that it was crying. Weeping for Squidward's pain and for Spongebob's soul.

Spongebob laughed at himself quietly. That was ridiculous. The sky wasn't crying. The sky didn't care what happened to two insignificant little bottom feeders. The rain was just rain, pouring down from the heavens and dampening the mood, pun intended. As a matter of fact, the rain was quite impractical. In addition to the reduced visibility, most of the ground around here was sand and silt, for obvious reasons. The rain would soak the ground and could cause it to slide, which could damage Spongebob's well-prepared grave from earlier. Don't question the fact that it's raining underwater. It just is.

Spongebob's ears perked up, despite him not having any. Could he hear it? Yes! The sound of an engine. A motorcycle.

Squilliam was coming.

Spongebob tensed, bracing himself for the attack. The adrenaline was pumping around his body. It was time to save Squidward.

He could see the light of Squilliam's motorcycle now. The bastard was close. Spongebob raised the shovel. Squilliam was driving quickly. He had to time this perfectly.

Spongebob leapt out of the undergrowth with the speed of a cheetah, screaming and waving the shovel. His timing was perfect. He struck Squilliam's helmet, which foolishly wasn't strapped on. Squilliam screamed in horror as his helmet flew off and he was thrown from his motorcycle, which crashed into the kelp by the side of the road. Squilliam lay in the dirt, clutching his head and moaning. He cracked open his eyes.

"What the hell was tha…agghhhh?!"

Standing over Squilliam was Spongebob. Spongebob was panting, face contorted with rage, clutching the shovel. With an animalistic scream, he raised the shovel and swung down at Squilliam's head. Squilliam barely dodged the blow, rolling out of the way with a scream and bolting down the road. Spongebob gritted his teeth and chased after Squilliam.

Spongebob was far faster than his prey. He ran round Squilliam and swung the shovel to cut him off. Desperately, Squilliam turned and ran into the tangle of kelp. Spongebob grinned sadistically. This cat and mouse game was strangely kind of fun, and now that Squilliam had run into terrain where he had no chance of speedy movement, Spongebob's victory was assured.

* * *

Squilliam struggled through the thick masses of vines. He could hear no sounds of pursuit. He ran out into a clearing, checking behind him for his mysterious and terrifying attacker. There was no sign of him. Squilliam began to laugh hysterically. He had escaped. The mad sponge was no match for him. He was Squilliam Fancyson, the greatest man alive.

The greatest man alive failed to look where he was going and ran straight into a deep hole.

He groaned.

"What the hell… this sucks… I'm calling a lawyer when I get back…"

Squilliam opened his eyes and looked up.

The sponge was there.

Squilliam screamed as the shovel came swinging down.

* * *

The blade of the shovel split Squilliam's unibrow and sliced through his skull. There was no need to be bloodless if Squilliam was going to die in his grave. Squilliam was still struggling slightly. Spongebob raised the shovel again and struck with just as much force. Squilliam's skull caved in. Blood and grey matter sprayed into the water. The rain was still pouring. A puddle, some four or five inches deep, had formed at the bottom of the hole. It was stained red.

Even though Squilliam was undoubtedly dead, Spongebob kept swinging the shovel, pouring all of his rage and hatred into his blows and utterly mangling Squilliam's body beyond recognition. Panting, Spongebob finally stopped after some thirty strikes. He dropped the shovel.

Squilliam was dead.

The work wasn't yet over, though. Spongebob heaved himself out of the hole and stuck the shovel into the large pile of dirt next to it. Wearily, Spongebob began shovelling the dirt back into the grave, covering Squilliam's mutilated body and hiding it from the world.

When the hole was full, Spongebob patted down the dirt and walked over to the kelp. He hacked at several vines with the shovel and pushed them over the grave, to hide the telltale signs of the freshly-dug earth. From his pocket he pulled a packet of kelp seedlings that he'd taken from home. He ripped open the packet and scattered the seeds over the ground. Squilliam's body would probably make good fertiliser.

Spongebob fell back and landed on his behind. He admired his handiwork. He had done it. Squilliam was dead, thanks to the curse of the Flying Dutchman. With luck, no culprit would ever be caught. Spongebob began to laugh. He had saved Squidward.

"I did it," he chuckled. "I really did it!"

Spongebob threw back his head and laughed, proclaiming his victory to the ambivalent heavens.

He sat there, laughing, for what felt like hours, but was closer to half an hour, which was still far too long.

_I did it_,_ Squidward_. _I killed Squilliam_. _I saved you_. _Aren't you proud of me_, _Grandma_? _I saved one of my best friends_.

Spongebob pictured his beloved grandmother smiling at him and holding out her arms.

"_Well done_, _Spongebob_," she said warmly. "_You saved Squidward_. _It doesn_'_t matter how you did it_. _You're a hero_."

Spongebob smiled back up at her.

"Thanks, Grandma."

He didn't care about what he had become in the heat of the moment, as he swung the shovel and savaged Squilliam's corpse. His soul didn't matter. He would gladly go to hell for any of his friends. He had saved Squidward. That was all he cared about.

* * *

Spongebob did not know how long he sat there, but when he finally thought to check his watch, it was almost midnight. He was very late. He did not know when Patrick and Squidward would be returning, but he had to get back quickly and slyly, or his cover would be blown.

Having disposed of the shovel in a convenient nearby bog, Spongebob began trudging wearily back to the road.

As he stepped out onto the road, there was a flash of light and the sound of an engine. Spongebob leapt clear of the boatmobile just in time.

The boat pulled over and the driver rolled down the window.

It was Sadie.

"Spongebob?!" she said in surprise. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the carnival? Why are you all covered in mud?"

Spongebob panicked.

_Crap in a bucket_! _I didn_'_t plan for this_!

"Er… well, you see, I just realised that I lost something around this road earlier today, so I left the carnival to come look for it."

Sadie raised an eyebrow.

"I see. Why were you on this road in the first place? The carnival's in a completely different direction."

Spongebob thought rapidly.

"Well, I visited my grandma's old house earlier today, to pay my respects, you know, since it's the anniversary of her death… that must have been when I lost it."

Sadie looked at him disbelievingly.

"Right. Well, it's pouring with rain right now, so I'm gonna go. Do you want a lift back to the carnival?"

Spongebob shook his head.

"I'm kinda tired, so if you wouldn't mind, could you just take me back to my house?"

Sadie smiled.

"Sure. Get in. You'll have to leave your bike here, though, and come back for it tomorrow. The trunk's kind of full at the moment."

Spongebob hesitated.

"Come on, nobody will steal it. Most likely, nobody will even come along this road until tomorrow anyway."

Spongebob nodded.

"Thanks, Sadie."

"Don't mention it," she replied as he climbed in and closed the door.

They slowly drove away in silence, the rain hammering at the windscreen.

"So, Spongebob, what did you lose?"

Spongebob, previously deep in thought, twitched in surprise.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Sadie chuckled.

"I said, what did you lose on this road?"

"Oh, right." Spongebob thought for a moment. "My, uh… my… wallet."

Sadie gasped.

"Oh, that's too bad. Did you manage to find it?"

Since Spongebob did not have his wallet on him, he replied,

"No, I didn't have any luck. I blame the rain. I'll try again tomorrow, when I come back for my bike."

Sadie nodded.

"So, you were at the carnival earlier, were you?"

Spongebob nodded.

"Yes, I was at the carnival until I realised I'd lost my wallet."

Sadie nodded.

"I see. Did you have fun?"

"Oh yes," said Spongebob, nodding thoroughly. "It was great fun."

"That's good. What was your favourite attraction?"

Spongebob thought. What was likely to be at a carnival?

"I would say the coconut shooting was probably my favourite," he replied.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought that would be your strong point."

"Yeah, I wasn't very good at it. Mr. Krabs won, but the important part was having fun, and we all did."

Sadie smiled.

"That's good. Did you get any presents?"

Spongebob nodded.

"Yes. One from Sandy and one from Patrick."

"What did they get you?"

Spongebob thought.

"Sandy got me some multi-purpose hygiene gel and Patrick made me a backscratcher."

Sadie chuckled.

"How practically minded. You're very lucky to have such good friends."

Spongebob forced a smile.

"Yeah, friends are the best."

Squilliam's face, smashed in and covered in blood, flashed in his mind. Somehow, he got the feeling that when Sadie talked about the positives of friends, she wasn't thinking of friends committing brutal murders for you.

Sadie was still smiling.

"You know, it's funny," she said. "When I was at the carnival earlier, I saw Sandy, Patrick and Squidward. They said you were ill and staying at home all day."

Spongebob's heart stopped.

He was doomed.

Sadie continued.

"I have to say, I was surprised to see Squidward there, considering his current state. Apparently, you told Sandy to make sure he came, since you couldn't due to your illness. You wanted to make sure that Squidward had some fun."

Spongebob was sweating profusely.

"I said it before and I'll say it again, Spongebob," smiled Sadie. "It's good that Squidward has such a good friend like you to help him and support him. It's good that Squidward has someone who will do anything for him, even sentence themselves to hell."

Spongebob's eyes widened.

Sadie was still looking in front of her, eyes fixed on the soaking road. She was smiling slightly.

Spongebob was panicking. He knew the hidden meaning in Sadie's words.

_Sadie knew_.

* * *

Were you really… there that night?

Were you really… ever my friend?

Were you really… so scared?

Were you really… so brave?

Can you really… live with what you've done?

When the Scallops Cry, Pain Arc

Part Four: Heretic's Fork

Can you believe?

* * *

So now the bastard's dead, Sadie is creepy and Spongebob is going crazy. This story is such a barrel of laughs.


	14. Pain - Heretic's Fork

OMG, it's like, the longest chapter yet. And the reason it's so long is because we spend ages not doing anything.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Pain Arc

Part Four – Heretic's Fork

* * *

Spongebob entered his house that night in a state of deep shock.

_Sadie knew_.

Could he trust Sadie? Could he really? It was impossible to tell.

Spongebob lay awake that entire night. Every creak panicked him. Sadie could have told the police already. They could be coming for him.

Every time Spongebob closed his eyes, Squilliam's mutilated face flashed in his vision. Could this be guilt? Surely not, not for Squilliam. It was terror. He was a murderer and a brutal one at that. Spongebob Squarepants was a tainted man. His fate would be the depths of hell.

But it was worth it, he kept telling himself. Squidward was saved. He, Spongebob, had saved him.

But such comforting thoughts did not allow Spongebob to sleep. He simply lay there, staring at his boring ceiling.

What if Sadie betrayed him?

Despite all his resolve and self-righteousness, Spongebob still feared prison and the death penalty that would await him if he were apprehended for his crimes.

Spongebob could not bear the thought. Sadie could not be trusted. He had to make a decision.

Sadie had to be silenced.

She, too, needed to disappear, all due to the Dutchman of course. She could be with her beloved husband Fred again. Spongebob could plan for her death tomorrow, at school.

* * *

Several hours into the school day, Spongebob still had no idea how to dispose of Sadie as he had of Squilliam. He had lost his opportunity to get rid of everybody with the carnival.

"Spongebob? Are you alright?" Mrs. Puff was leaning over him, looking concerned.

He blinked.

"Yeah, of course! I'm just still a little ill, is all."

Mrs. Puff looked disbelieving.

"Are you sure, Spongebob?"

Spongebob frowned. Of course he was alright! What business did this minor character have, sticking her nose into the plot?!

"Yes, Mrs. Puff. I'm fine. If you could leave me alone now, I'm trying to get on with my work."

Mrs. Puff frowned down at him.

"Alright, Spongebob. There's no need to take that tone with me. I just want you to know that I'm here to help, so if you need it, you can always come to me."

Spongebob scowled.

"OK, Mrs. Puff! Leave me alone!"

Mrs. Puff straightened up, looking shocked. She hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked away, looking more than a little miffed.

* * *

When school was finished, Spongebob hurried from the building, desperate to get home and plot. He stopped, however, when he saw the blue boatmobile parked outside and the familiar blonde policewoman stood leaning against it with her arms folded.

"Ah, Mr. Squarepants. There you are. Lovely to see you again."

Spongebob froze. What did O'Malley want with him?! Surely- Surely Sadie hadn't sold him out already?!

"Please step into the car, Mr. Squarepants. There's some information I want to disclose in private."

Trembling in terror, Spongebob climbed stiffly into the back seat.

O'Malley turned round in her seat to look at him.

"Mr. Squarepants. I trust you know about the Dutchnight murders?"

Spongebob nodded slowly.

"Last night, the fifth Dutchnight murder was committed."

Spongebob was bricking.

"R-Really?! That's awful!"

O'Malley raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, it really is. Would you like to know who died?"

Spongebob forced a nod.

"Here you go," said O'Malley, handing him two photographs. "These pictures were taken of them at two o'clock this morning."

Spongebob blanched.

_What the hell_?! _These people aren_'_t Squilliam_!

"I- I can't tell who these two people are," he muttered.

"Of course. The first is called Larry the Lobster."

Spongebob was shocked. _Larry _was dead?!

"He died by clawing out his own throat with his claws."

Spongebob felt sick.

"The second is Sadie Rechid."

The world stopped.

Sadie was dead.

Sadie had died by the Dutchman's curse.

Just as Spongebob had wished.

O'Malley was still talking.

"She was found in an oil drum, having been burned to death in it."

Spongebob managed to find his voice and croak out a question.

"W-Why are you telling me this?"

O'Malley suddenly smirked humourlessly.

"That, Mr. Squarepants, is classified information."

* * *

Spongebob trudged home, feeling more scared than ever and cursing at O'Malley. When he reached his house, he was surprised to find the door open. Again he jumped in fear, thinking that the police were waiting for him, but when he entered, he found it to contain none other than his friends, Sandy, Patrick and, best of all, Squidward, in spite of Squidward still looking miserable.

"Hey guys!" he exclaimed happily.

"Hey Spongebob," smiled Sandy. "How was school? It's good to see you're feeling better."

Spongebob inwardly shied away from Sandy and the knowing look in her eye. She suspected him, he knew that, but there was no way she would sell him out. She was his best friend. She wasn't Sadie. He didn't have to kill her too.

"Spongebob?"

Patrick's voice brought him out of his dark thoughts.

"Yeah, buddy?"

Spongebob forced a smile.

"We saved you some cake that we got at the carnival!"

Patrick held out a plate of cake, his face beaming with innocence. Spongebob's heart was lifted by the sight. He smiled genuinely and took the cake.

As he ate, he glanced sideways at Squidward. His friend was scowling and looking aside. _He might not even have realised Squilliam's gone yet_, Spongebob thought. All the same, even if he didn't know it, Squidward was safe. Spongebob smiled into his cake. All the dark thoughts of the day were banished from his head.

He had saved Squidward.

"So, did you guys have fun at the carnival?" he asked when he had finished his cake.

Patrick nodded vigorously.

"Oh yeah! It was amazing! It was so much fun! It was just a shame you couldn't come."

Spongebob smiled guiltily.

_Sorry_, _Patrick_. _Squidward comes first_.

Spongebob turned to Squidward, smiling hopefully.

"What about you, Squidward? Did you have fun yesterday?"

Squidward turned to scowl at him.

"Sure. It was great. All that noise, all those people crowding around me, making it hard to breathe. It was so much fun."

Spongebob sighed.

"But wasn't it great… you know… just to have some time to… relax?"

Squidward raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose at Spongebob.

"Yes, Spongebob. It was very nice to have some time away from Squilliam. Thank you so much for your bright idea to help me relax and get my hopes up."

Spongebob beamed. Had his intentions really been so obvious? He decided to ask the question burning at his mind in as subtle a manner as possible.

"Speaking of Squilliam… I don't suppose he's left yet?"

In the corner of his eye, Sandy tensed and her brow lowered.

Much to Spongebob's surprise, Squidward's glare intensified.

"_No_, Spongebob, Squilliam has not left yet!" he spat. "That's why I didn't appreciate your 'help'! Spending all day at the carnival, away from him, made me get my hopes up! Then, when I came home last night, the moment I got in, those hopes were dashed, by a goddamn beer bottle in my face! As soon as I got in, Squilliam was unleashing his crap on me all over again, twice as harshly, for the rest of the night! So thank you, Spongebob, for making my situation _even worse_!"

Sandy breathed a silent sigh of relief. Patrick looked nervously between his friends. Squidward panted from the effort of his rant.

And Spongebob's entire body froze in horror.

_Squilliam was alive_!

How could that be possible?! He, Spongebob, had beaten his brains out with his own hands! He had clutched the shovel he'd used to do it! He could still feel the sickening crunch of Squilliam's head under the blade! Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Squilliam's mangled corpse! Squilliam was dead! He had to be!

"S-S-Squidward?! Are- are you sure about that?! You're sure Squilliam was there?!"

Squidward continued to glare at him.

"What the barnacles are you talking about?! Of course I'm sure! You don't just imagine glass smashing in your face!"

Spongebob couldn't breathe.

_But I killed Squilliam_! _He_'_s dead_! _He_'_s definitely dead_! _He can_'_t be alive_!

"Now, if you're done with your stupid questions, I'll be taking my leave and going back to my apparently imaginary _torture_!"

Squidward stormed from the house, fuming with rage. Patrick made to follow, but was held back by Sandy, who looked nervously at the paralysed Spongebob.

"Er… Spongebob?" she said tentatively. Spongebob offered no response.

"Spongebob? Why did you think Squilliam might be gone?"

Still, Spongebob did not reply. He simply stared into space; a space that he appeared to be terrified of.

"Spongebob, please tell me you haven't done anything stupid."

Sandy spoke in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, but the entire silent room heard it.

All but Spongebob, who continued to do nothing at all. Nothing at all. Nothing at all.

* * *

_Squilliam was alive_.

That single thought pervaded in Spongebob's mind for the entire night. He did not move from his spot on the floor of his living room.

_Squilliam was alive_.

What could he do?! He was so sure that he had murdered Squilliam! How could the bastard still be alive?! How could Spongebob have failed?! Surely he hadn't just imagined the whole thing?!

He had to be sure. He had to check. That night, he had heard no sounds from Squidward's house, but then, he had heard nothing at all, lost in his thoughts as he was, so deeply that he did not even hear the morning scallops.

The only way to check if Squilliam were alive would be to go to Squidward's house and see the dead octopus with his own eyes.

With that in mind, Spongebob stood up at about six o'clock and hurried to his door. He swung it open.

O'Malley was there.

Spongebob screamed in shock.

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Squarepants."

Spongebob took several gasps.

"H-Hello, Detective O'Malley!" He forced a smile. "What brings you here?!"

O'Malley did not return the smile.

"I just wanted to ask you if you knew anything- anything at all- about the case of Mrs. Rechid and Mr. Lobster that you failed to tell me yesterday."

Spongebob blinked. He had almost forgotten about Sadie and Larry entirely. He'd been too caught up in the more pressing matter of Squilliam.

"No, Detective. I don't know anything about what happened to Sadie or Larry. Why would I?"

O'Malley regarded him coldly, but made no move to leave.

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing at all!" replied Spongebob firmly. "So would you please leave me in peace?!"

O'Malley stared at him for a minute, matching his glare with her own.

"I see," she said finally. "Very well, Mr. Squarepants. I shall leave you in peace, shall I?"

She suddenly stepped back and slammed the door.

Spongebob waited until he had heard her car drive into the distance before wrenching open the door again and hurrying across the gap between the two houses. It didn't matter what O'Malley thought. He just had to save Squidward.

Spongebob rapped on the door until his knuckles hurt. After a few minutes, Squidward wearily opened it.

Spongebob gasped.

Squidward looked worse than ever.

Squidward's entire face was black and blue. He was bleeding in several places and one eye was squeezed shut from the enormous bruise over it.

_Surely Squilliam couldn_'_t have done this_?!

"Er… hey, Squidward," he winced. "You… feeling OK, buddy?"

Squidward's murderous glare reminded him of yesterday's rant at stupid questions, and even Spongebob knew that what he had just asked was undeniably a stupid question. Spongebob decided to hurry the conversation along before Squidward started shouting again.

"Erm… Squidward? Is Squilliam in? You see, I kind of wanted to talk to you in private about something, but if he's in…"

Squidward's glare remained fixed.

"He's still in. Go away."

Spongebob glanced past Squidward. The hallway behind him was dark and it was difficult to make out any details.

"Well… that's a shame… why don't we go outside and talk here?"

Squidward did not budge.

"Just go away, Spongebob."

Squidward's voice suddenly raised in volume.

"Leave me alone, Spongebob! I hate you so much! I swear to the Dutchman, I will snap and kill you one day!"

Spongebob was momentarily distraught, until he noticed that there was something strange about the way Squidward was talking. His words sounded artificial, rather similar to how he had sounded when he had been in a play once. Everyone had agreed that Squidward was a bad, bad actor. But why would Squidward be saying such a thing if he didn't mean it?

Spongebob continued to peer into Squidward's house, straining his eyes for any sign of Squilliam.

"Why are you still standing here?! Get out!"

Then Spongebob saw it.

He gasped.

There, at the top of the stairs, was the silhouette of an octopus. All he could make out of its features was a sparkling, white smirk.

Squilliam was alive.

_Squilliam was alive_.

Long after Squidward had slammed the door in his face, Spongebob stood outside the grim stone head, listening to the faint sounds of Squidward's pain.

_Squilliam was alive_.

How could this be?! He was so sure that he had killed him! The memory was fresh and clear in his mind! He had beaten in Squilliam's head!

A horrible thought struck him. What if the person he had killed in the Kelp Forest was not Squilliam, but another octopus entirely?!

No. That wasn't possible. He had clearly seen his victim's face before he began to hit him. It was undoubtedly Squilliam. Besides, why would any other octopus have been driving down that road at such a late hour? Also, the motorcycle had definitely been Squilliam's. He recognised it from outside Squidward's house.

Suddenly, Spongebob experienced a dramatic sinking feeling in his chest.

The motorcycle.

He had forgotten to dispose of the motorcycle.

It would still be lying around by the road, in plain view of anyone who drove by.

Unless!

If Spongebob hadn't killed Squilliam, would the motorcycle be there? It wouldn't! He had to check later, when the coast was clear. He had to return to the Kelp Forest and find the motorcycle. If it was there, he had killed Squilliam. But had he? He was sure he had seen Squilliam at the top of Squidward's stairs! Even if the motorcycle was there, it was undeniable that Squilliam was in Squidward's house.

Which meant the motorcycle was probably not there.

Even so, he had to check. He was so sure that he had killed Squilliam. He was sure of it.

But for now, even though he was so desperate to check the Forest immediately, Spongebob had no choice but to go to work. He had no idea how long he'd been stood out here, so he may well be late. Somehow, this didn't bother Spongebob any more. What did work matter? Squidward was suffering and the whole world was going insane.

Right now, the Krusty Krab hardly mattered to Spongebob at all.

* * *

When Spongebob arrived at the Krusty Krab, it was nearly two o'clock in the afternoon. He grimaced as he saw the clock on the wall. Mr. Krabs would not be happy.

Spongebob was surprised to see that the restaurant was open, if not busy. Looking through the porthole to the kitchen, he could see Mr. Krabs himself labouring away, cooking the patties and serving them. It appeared he had temporarily hired Tom to manage the cash register and take the orders. He walked up to the boat in which Tom was sat.

"Hey, Tom," he said. "How's business?"

Tom frowned.

"It's not good, to be honest. Krabs was struggling to do everything himself this morning, so I offered to help him out. Where've you been? You look awful."

Spongebob shrugged guiltily.

"I felt ill again," he replied.

Krabs burst out of the kitchen, face livid.

"Spongebob! Where the hell have you been, boy?!"

"Sorry, Mr. Krabs, I've been feeling ill again."

Krabs scuttled towards him and eyed him suspiciously.

"Ill, huh? You do look pretty bad."

Spongebob shakily forced a smile.

"Hmm. This isn't just to do with Squidward, is it?"

Spongebob blinked in surprise.

"Of course not, sir! I'm genuinely ill!"

Krabs scowled at him.

"You're a bad liar, boy. This is to do with Squidward, isn't it? What's the problem?"

For a brief moment, Spongebob seriously considered simply telling Mr. Krabs everything, but within seconds, he decided against it. He couldn't drag Mr. Krabs into this. His boss had a family to look after and deserved a peaceful life after his time in the war. Getting Krabs involved would only bring the old crab harm.

"I am ill, sir. It's just that I think it's because of Squidward; my mental health is causing my physical health to suffer, you know?"

Krabs surveyed him doubtfully.

"Alright, boy. I'm going to trust you on this, and I hope you don't break my trust."

Spongebob nodded.

"Absolutely, sir. I'll never let you down."

Krabs still looked doubtful. His expression softened.

"Listen, boy. I know this whole business with Squidward is tough for you. It's tough for all of us."

_No it isn_'_t_, thought Spongebob angrily. _Nobody else would help Squidward_.

"But I'm sure it'll end soon, OK? We have to keep on living, for Squidward's sake as well as ours. He wouldn't want us wallowing in our despair over him, would he?"

Spongebob swallowed.

"You're right, Mr. Krabs," he replied, nodding. "Squidward wouldn't want us to suffer for him. And I'm sure it will end soon."

Krabs smiled at him.

"That's the spirit, boy! Now get yourself to the hospital and check if anything's wrong with you, and if not, come straight back!"

Spongebob nodded again and walked out of the double doors.

_You_'_re right about one thing_, _Mr_. _Krabs_, he thought. _Squidward_'_s pain will end soon_. _I_'_ll end it_. _I_'_ll end everything_. _I_'_ll save Squidward_.

* * *

"Welcome back, Mr. Squarepants," smiled Forrest as he escorted Spongebob into his office. "Let's have a look at what's wrong with you this time, shall we?"

Spongebob sat on a chair patiently. He felt comfortable here, in Forrest's care. He was relatively safe. He hadn't known Forrest long, but he could trust the man, he was sure. Forrest was a friend.

Forrest examined his body carefully, umming and aahing as he did so. He scanned Spongebob's eyeballs; he checked his mouth and took swabs of his saliva, which he scanned; Spongebob was somewhat confused by the time Forrest was taking and checking blood samples. Were these normal procedures for a basic check-up? Or was Forrest looking for something?

As he worked, Spongebob noticed that Forrest appeared more and more concerned. Eventually, the doctor sat back in his chair and took a long, hard look at Spongebob. After a moment, he leaned forward again, fins clasped together.

"Mr. Squarepants, would it be safe to say that you have been under a lot of stress lately? The ordeal with Mr. Tentacles must be shaking you up, of course, but… is anything else bothering you?"

Spongebob tried to take time to think, but before he could do so, words were rolling out of his mouth.

"I killed him."

The office became very silent and still.

Forrest stared at Spongebob with a very strange look in his eyes.

Eventually, Forrest took a deep breath.

"Who did you kill, Mr. Squarepants?"

This time, Spongebob took the time to consider what he was going to say; however, he found that he didn't really need it. He had already admitted to murder; he may as well explain himself.

"I killed Squilliam Fancyson."

An unmistakeable look of horrified comprehension dawned on Forrest's face.

Spongebob continued.

"I killed him on Dutchnight, while everyone else was at the carnival and I was pretending to be ill. After that, I buried his body. I won't tell you where, because O'Malley's been sniffing around, and if you know anything, she might implicate you too."

Forrest simply listened, his expression grave.

"But there's a problem."

Forrest raised his eyebrows.

"Oh?"

Spongebob's voice became panicked. Everything was spilling out now.

"Squilliam's not dead! I'm positive I killed him, but he's not dead! What do I do?! Squidward's still being hurt, worse than ever! I saw Squilliam myself, inside Squidward's house! I'm so sure I killed him! How can he still be alive?!"

Forrest gently placed a hand on Spongebob's shoulder.

"It's OK, Mr. Squarepants. Calm down, and especially keep your voice down. You don't want to be overheard admitting to murder."

Spongebob looked up at Forrest, his eyes glistening.

"You don't believe me!" he cried.

Forrest shook his head.

"I do believe you, Spongebob."

Somehow, those simple words in Forrest's soothing voice were enough to calm Spongebob down.

Spongebob began to weep.

"I'm so scared, Doc. Am I going insane? I just wanted to help Squidward! Why is everything going wrong?!"

Forrest held Spongebob gently.

"It's OK, Spongebob. You're not going insane. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for Squilliam appearing to still be alive."

Spongebob looked up at Forrest's sad smile through his tears.

"It'll be alright," murmured Forrest. "I won't tell anybody. I'll keep you safe. Together, we'll solve this mystery and save Squidward. Does that sound good?"

Spongebob wiped away his tears and smiled up at the kind doctor. Forrest really was a good doctor. He just wanted to help people. He would help Spongebob, and he would help Squidward.

"Oh, and Spongebob?"

"Yes?"

Spongebob took another look at Forrest. He was surprised to see tears shining in the doctor's eyes as he smiled at Spongebob.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for helping Squidward when I failed to do so."

Forrest hung his head. Spongebob wasn't sure what to say.

"Even though I promised his mother I would look after him… I stood by and did nothing while he suffered, too afraid for my own sake…"

Forrest looked up again, smiling tearfully.

"But you had the strength and the heart to save him. Thank you, Spongebob Squarepants."

Spongebob returned the watery smile.

The pair of them sat still in the office for a good ten minutes, simply crying silently but comfortably.

Eventually, Forrest straightened up and wiped his eyes, still smiling. His smile reminded Spongebob of Sadie. A pang of guilt struck Spongebob at the thought. He hadn't mentioned Sadie to the doctor.

"Would you like some coffee, Spongebob?" offered Forrest. "It'll help calm you down, soothe your nerves, you know?"

Spongebob nodded, saying nothing but smiling gratefully. Forrest stood and left the office.

In less than a minute, Spongebob had grown bored and lonely. He stood and followed Forrest.

As he drew near the cafeteria, he passed another office. From this room he heard voices.

Forrest's voice, and a female he did not know.

Spongebob stuck his head round the corner of the door and listened. From his vantage point, he could see that all trace of tears, sadness or smiling was gone from Forrest's face. In their place was a serious, professional, stony expression.

Spongebob strained to hear what they were saying. Forrest was talking.

"…He appears to be in a delusional and potentially violent state. Either he's actually killed someone, or he thinks he has. Either way, we're going to need to drug him. I just offered to get him some coffee, which I'll slip sleeping pills into. After that, you need to get some more nurses up here so we can get him down to the underground ward."

Spongebob heard nothing else, although the pair of them kept talking.

_Forrest had betrayed him_.

Spongebob was brimming with boiling rage. How could that bastard do something like that to him?! Spongebob had trusted him! He had cried with him! The pair of them had briefly become closer than brothers in the office! Had it really all been an act?! Had Forrest just been playing with him?! Manipulating him?! When all along he had been planning to drug him and lock him away?!

_He should just die_.

The thought momentarily shocked Spongebob. He didn't even realise who had thought it. But after a brief hesitation, he continued.

_He_'_s nearly as bad as Squilliam_. _He doesn_'_t deserve to live_. _That bastard should die by the Dutchman_'_s curse_,_ just like Sadie did_.

And with such grim thoughts in his mind, Spongebob Squarepants fled Bikini Bottom General.

* * *

Spongebob stayed locked in his house all night and day. Work didn't matter. Patrick knocking at the door and begging him to come out didn't matter. Forrest, the treacherous bastard, could be after him. He couldn't risk being locked up when he had a duty to perform. He had to save Squidward. First, he had to be sure Squilliam was alive. He had to check the Forest. He had to find the motorcycle.

On the way to the Kelp Forest, Spongebob remembered that he had left his own bike there too. What had he been thinking? He'd done a terrible job of disposing of the evidence after all. It would almost be lucky if Squilliam were still alive, considering what a mess Spongebob had made of the murder.

However, Spongebob was far from relieved when he reached the point where he had killed Squilliam and found no trace whatsoever of the motorcycle.

Frantically, Spongebob searched through the undergrowth. Nothing. There was no sign of Squilliam's motorcycle anywhere. Worse still, there was no trace of his bike.

Spongebob did not even notice how heavy and rapid his breathing had become.

_Did I even come here that night_?!

Surely he couldn't have simply imagined it all? Had it all just been a horribly vivid dream?! Was Squilliam still alive?!

Spongebob gulped and tried to keep calm. There was still one detail left to check.

Squilliam's grave.

Spongebob would dig up Squilliam's grave and look for his body. It would be the final deciding factor.

Spongebob raced home and back again with another shovel, thanking Neptune that he always kept spares of most household objects.

* * *

After ploughing through the muddy, wet tangles of kelp, Spongebob found the clearing where he had buried Squilliam. By the time he reached it, the rain had started up again. Annoyingly, the huge quantities of rain had soaked and warped the ground to the point where he couldn't tell if it had been recently dug up or not.

Gritting his teeth, Spongebob drove the blade of the shovel into the dirt.

"Good evening, Mr. Squarepants!"

Spongebob froze. Slowly, he turned in terror.

O'Malley.

And she wasn't alone.

Stood around her were some twenty policemen, all glaring at Spongebob. Spongebob recognised one stood right next to her; Detective John Blake. The man had a reputation for police brutality. Spongebob trembled in terror.

Oddly, O'Malley was the only one not glaring. In fact, a strangely triumphant smile was lighting up her features. However, there was too much cruelty in the smile to make her look nice.

"Fine weather, isn't it, Mr. Squarepants? I see you're out for a pleasant evening stroll in the forest. What's the shovel for? Building a sandcastle, perhaps?"

Spongebob could not feel his heart beating. He could not breathe. He was cornered.

"Of course, there's nothing strange about that; this seems to be a hobby of yours. Curiously, you were seen heading very quickly in the direction of this forest, carrying a shovel, by an undisclosed witness only a couple of days ago."

O'Malley's brow lowered, giving her smile an almost psychotic edge.

"_On the night of Dutchnight_."

She took one step towards him.

"Don't let us interrupt you, Mr. Squarepants. Please, continue digging. Why don't you show us all what's buried down there? I must say I'm very curious."

Spongebob was trapped. There was no way he could hope to kill all of these big, hulking policemen. There was nowhere to run; while O'Malley had been gloating, her team had spread out and surrounded the entire clearing.

Like hell he was going to give up.

"I think I'd rather build my sandcastle in peace, Detective. Art requires solitude-!"

Spongebob was cut off rather suddenly by a fist in his jaw, which threw him to the ground.

In seconds, O'Malley was on him, fins wrapped tightly round his throat, bashing his head against the ground. After a moment, she released him. Before he had time to catch his breath, she had stomped on his face and kicked him over onto his front. She grabbed the back of his head and ground his face into the dirt. After a minute, she yanked his head upwards and grinned sadistically in his face.

"I don't care how you like to build your sandcastles, you piece of shit. Now dig up whatever the hell you buried so that we have enough evidence to get you convicted."

Callously, she flung him against the shovel.

"Dig," she ordered again. She stepped back.

Spongebob picked up the shovel.

Spongebob laboured for hours, churning up the wet sediment as the rain drummed down on his head. O'Malley and her team stood around, watching impatiently.

"How bloody far down did you bury it, Squarepants?!" snarled Blake.

"For God's sake, Blake, sit down," O'Malley ordered him. "It doesn't matter how far down it is. I can wait all night, and tomorrow, and all of next week if I have to. I'm going to finally catch one of the murdering bastards."

Spongebob glared up at her.

"Hurry it up, all the same," she barked at him.

It was at that moment that the shovel struck solid rock with a metallic _clang_.

Spongebob's heart sank.

Squilliam was alive.

O'Malley looked outraged.

"What the hell?! How can you have stopped?!"

"Maybe he's digging in the wrong place?" suggested Blake.

"Then he can dig somewhere else until he finds what he's looking for!" screamed O'Malley.

"It's not here, O'Malley!" Spongebob called up, just as furiously. "I definitely buried it here! Since it's not here, it must have all been a dream! I never did it at all! So why don't you just get yourself killed by the Dutchman's curse, just like Sadie!"

O'Malley stared at him, her face contorted with rage, for a moment. Then, with an animalistic cry, she leapt down into the hole and began to kick Spongebob with the apparent intention of hammering him into the rock below.

"Find it! Find it! Tell me what it is! I know it was you! You killed her! I swear, I will make you dig up this whole forest if I have to! Just FIND IT!"

"O'Malley!" cried Blake, joining them in the hole. "You're not going to achieve anything like this! Whatever it is, it's not here, which means we can't get him for anything yet! You know what Puss will do is he finds out we were here! Unless we come back with definite evidence soon, Puss will find out what we're up to and have us kicked off the force, or worse!"

"Then what do you want me to do with him?" O'Malley hollered back at him, pointing at Spongebob. "You know he did it as much as I do! We can't just let him go!"

"We don't have a choice!" Blake lowered his voice. "We will get him, I promise. But for now, we'll just have to leave him."

He placed a hand on O'Malley's shoulder. Gradually, she began to calm down.

"Alright," she said, turning to the battered and bruised sponge beside her, her voice dripping with venomous hatred. "Tonight, you walk free. By tomorrow, I'll have you slung into a cold, hard cell, with death row not far off. I bid you goodnight, Mr. Squarepants."

In seconds, the police officers had slunk away into the undergrowth, leaving Spongebob weeping at the bottom of the hole.

He had failed. Squilliam was still alive. He hadn't saved Squidward at all.

Spongebob's resolve hardened and he stood, clutching the shovel for support.

Squilliam wasn't dead. But he would be. This time, Spongebob would be thorough. He would have witnesses. He didn't care about getting caught any more. As he trudged back home, through the rain, in the dark, his mind screamed simple thoughts on repeat.

_Forrest should die_! _O_'_Malley should die_! _And most of all_,_ Squilliam should die_!

* * *

Please… don't die.

Please… be safe.

Please… protect me.

Please… forget me.

Please… live on.

I'm sorry… for this world.

When the Scallops Cry, Pain Arc

Part Five: Judas Cradle

Can you believe?

* * *

I can't help but feel I overdid O'Malley's bitchy side. But whatever. Tune in next time for the tragic, tearjerking, kind of sad finale to this arc, in which everybody is insane.


	15. Pain - Judas Cradle

I just realised something funny. In this story, Squidward is the equivalent of Satoko. Now try to imagine Squidward singing Dear You ~ Kind.

With that in mind, onto the depressing conclusion to the third arc.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

Pain Arc

Part Five – Judas Cradle

* * *

The house of Spongebob Squarepants was deathly silent. Gary was snoozing without a sound in a quiet corner. Nothing moved.

The door burst open with a tremendous bang. Gary awoke. Framed in the doorway stood Spongebob, pupils dilated, panting heavily, his once-innocent face twisted with rage.

Spongebob strode swiftly into the house and headed for his tool cupboard. Wrenching it open, he began to rummage through his tools for the one he was looking for.

_Come on_, _I know it_'_s in here somewhere_…

At last, he found what he was looking for. There would be no messing around with shovels this time. He was going to sever Squilliam's foul head from his body.

Hoisting the axe over his shoulder, Spongebob left his house and slammed the door behind him.

Gary watched his master go with sad eyes.

* * *

Spongebob kicked open Squidward's front door and scanned the hall.

It was deserted.

Spongebob strained his ears. There were no sounds but his own raging pants.

Swinging the bloodthirsty axe idly by his side, Spongebob strode into the house.

It was a mess. All of Squidward's beloved portraits were torn and broken on the floor. The furniture had been ripped apart. Spongebob saw with a shudder that several patches had been set on fire. Shattered glass was everywhere. Spongebob stepped carefully.

Gently, still swinging the axe, Spongebob walked upstairs. Still, he could hear nothing but his breath and the occasional creak of the steps beneath his feet.

Wait!

There was a sound!

Water.

Dripping.

Spongebob turned slowly and walked towards the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. Spongebob reached out with the axe and pushed it open.

The room was filled with warm steam. It was slightly stifling.

There was another sound.

A faint mumbling.

Spongebob stepped around the door.

Squidward.

Squidward was in the bath.

He was unconscious.

Spongebob took in the sight in front of him.

Squidward's body was an ugly sight to behold. His entire body was adorned with angry scars, dark bruises and savage cuts. He was sprawled out in a star shape, filling the entire bath. The water around him was steaming. How long had Squidward been in here?

Spongebob dropped the axe and stepped closer to Squidward.

He was mumbling something. Spongebob leaned in to hear.

"Fifty thousand… four hundred… sixty… two… fifty thousand… four hundred… sixty… three… fifty thousand… four hundred… sixty… four… fifty thousand… four… hundred…"

Spongebob's eyes widened in shock. Had Squidward been counting all the while he was in this bath?! Was this Squilliam's work?!

Without another thought, Spongebob seized Squidward's arms and heaved him out of the bath, splaying him out on the cold floor.

"Squidward?! Squidward?! Can you hear me, buddy?! Squidward!"

Squidward moaned feebly.

"Squidward! What are you doing?! Why were you in that boiling bath?! Why are you counting?!"

Squidward could evidently hear him. His lips trembled slightly. He opened his mouth, agonisingly slowly. At first, only a hiss escaped. Eventually, a single word was said.

"Squilliam…"

Spongebob's body flooded with fiery rage. It was a familiar feeling. The flames had taken him again. Spongebob Squarepants was angry. Nothing was going to stop him.

Howling with rage, Spongebob seized the axe and raced from the room.

"Where is he?!"

Spongebob smashed down the door to Squidward's bedroom.

"Where is he?!"

Spongebob smashed down the door to Squidward's utilities cupboard.

"Where is he?!"

Spongebob smashed down the door to Squidward's kitchen.

"Where is he?!"

Spongebob smashed down the door to Squidward's living room.

"WHERE IS HE?!"

Spongebob and the axe brutally destroyed everything still intact in Squidward's a house in their frantic search for their enemy.

_Where the hell is Squilliam_?!

Spongebob returned to the bathroom, where Squidward was feebly stirring on the floor.

_I_'_ll kill him_!

"Squidward! Where is he?! Where's Squilliam?!"

Squidward groaned.

Screaming, Spongebob lunged with axe for the hated bath that dared hurt Squidward. Striking repeatedly, Spongebob smashed at the bath until the walls broke like a dam and the scalding water surged forth, engulfing Spongebob's legs.

The pain brought Spongebob back to his senses.

This water would hurt Squidward.

Dropping and forgetting the axe, Spongebob splashed his way over to Squidward and lifted him up, one arm under his head, one arm under his knees, just to rip off Michelangelo. The artist, not the turtle.

Spongebob strode boldly from the bathroom and entered Squidward's bedroom. He laid his friend's fragile body on the bed and sat down by the foot of the bed, breathing heavily, fighting down the rage. He had a duty to protect Squidward. That had to come first. He had to retain his sanity and look after Squidward. Of course, he would fight to protect Squidward, and he would gladly hack Squilliam to pieces if he met the bastard. But for now, he had to stay calm and nurse his friend back to health. He grimly realised that in spite of Forrest's betrayal, Squidward needed to go to a hospital. There was no way anyone but a qualified doctor with proper equipment could heal Squidward.

At the moment, however, both of them had to rest. Spongebob's mad rage had exhausted him and Squidward wasn't going anywhere just yet.

Spongebob sat silently for a while, staring at Squidward's ceiling. It was nicer than his own.

Spongebob turned to look at Squidward. The octopus was cooling down and beginning to regain consciousness, panting heavily. Spongebob smiled sadly. How much had his poor friend been through in his life? And Spongebob had thought that he had it bad.

There was a book on Squidward's bedside table.

Spongebob didn't recognise it. It was jet black, tightly bound in a leather strap, with a pearl set into the cover. It clearly did not belong to Squidward. Was it Squilliam's, then?

Spongebob struggled to his feet and took the book from the table. He perched himself on the side of the bed and undid the strap. Opening the book confirmed that it was Squilliam's; the hated name was scrawled in the front in an unnecessarily elaborate font. The book was old; the pages were faded and yellow. Checking the early pages showed Spongebob that it had been a present for Squilliam's seventh birthday. There was a 'Happy Birthday' message from his mother. The thought of anybody being kind to the monster Spongebob hated with all his heart was sickening.

The book was a diary. It contained years and years of records of Squilliam's hateful existence. Spongebob flicked through it.

'_Dear Diary._

_Today I woke up two hours late for school. I was driven there as usual and the headmaster welcomed me personally for the first time since I started. He really should do it more often. I like watching the other students stare in awe, and in the case of that stupid Tentacles boy, jealousy. Speaking of Tentacles, I 'accidentally' snapped his clarinet today. He cried so much, I needed stitches from laughing too much. But after that, his stupid bitch of a mother came in and yelled at me! Me! Nobody ever yells at me! I'll make her pay some day, I swear. Her and her stupid son. I'll curse them both. I'll make their lives miseries._

_Squilliam._'

The entry was sickening. Spongebob flicked further on.

'_Dear Diary._

_That bastard Squidward! I'll kill him one day, I swear it! I was just playing around with him like usual during band class and the little bastard attacked me! What is it with this family?! Don't they know their place?! I'm above all other living things, just like Mommy said! Obviously, my friends put Squidward in his place before long, but I did get seriously hurt! My unibrow was split and my nose started bleeding! Mommy fixed it all up and comforted me, of course, but it hurt really badly! I will make that bastard pay!_'

Spongebob went further.

'_Dear Diary._

_I just bought out one of Blandy's companies! I'm the best! If I can get a few more shares in his American-based arms manufacturers, which I'm working on right now, I'll be the richest and most powerful senator in Bikini Bottom! I can't wait to rub it in Squidward's face! The irony is beautiful. He always said it was his dream to be what I am now. I will always be the best!_

_Squilliam._'

Fighting back bile, Spongebob turned through a thick wad of pages.

'_Dear Diary._

_I finally succeeded in fulfilling part of my vow today. Squillizabeth Tentacles is dead._'

Spongebob's breath caught in his throat. _What_?!

'_Everything went perfectly. That assassin, Dennis, is perfect. I may pay him to keep working for me after all. It would just be a shame to kill off such a skilled hitman, when good ones are in such short supply. I think I'll leave Squidward alive for now. Apparently, he'll make an excellent test subject for research. His pain isn't over, far from it. I will plague Squidward's existence until the day of his death at my hands._

_Squilliam._'

Spongebob stared at the page in shock.

_Squilliam killed Squidward_'_s mother_!

Squilliam was responsible! Squilliam was responsible for everything! Everything that had gone wrong in Squidward's life, it was all Squilliam's fault! Burning with boiling hot rage, Spongebob gritted his teeth and flicked further ahead.

'_Dear Diary._

_I just met the most wonderful girl in the world! She's just like Mommy! Suddenly, I feel complete for the first time since Mommy passed away! I'll have her marry me tomorrow. Maybe I'll invite Squidward, just to spite him. I'll show him how perfect my life is while he wallows in his misery with nothing but his glued-up clarinet._

_Squilliam._'

Three pages later, Spongebob found the 26th June.

'_I'll kill him! I will kill Squidward Tentacles! I will make him suffer for everything he's done! He killed her! He killed my wife! Cruelly, he snatched away my beloved! Why would he do such a thing?! He is a monster! A rabid worm! He needs to be put down! The bastard's disappeared too! We've got people looking everywhere for him, but there's no trace! Trouble is, the scientists don't want me killing him. They want him alive, for research. So I'll leave him, for a while. But in time, when they no longer have any need for him, I will end Squidward Tentacles. I will torture him and scorn him all the way to Hell._

_Squilliam._'

Spongebob stared dumbly at the diary.

So O'Malley wasn't completely wrong. Squidward had been the killer of a Dutchnight victim. But there was no way it was a crime. Forrest had been right too. Squidward had done nothing wrong. Whatever he had done to Squilliam and Squilliam's wife meant nothing. It did not change Spongebob's feelings.

He would save Squidward.

He would kill Squilliam.

There was a lighter on the table, just next to where the diary had been. Grimly, he picked it up. This was for Squidward. Spongebob was a monster again. But this time, he wasn't under the fire's control. He was one with the fire. Fighting back his fear of the flames, Spongebob lit the lighter and held it to the book. There would be no more entries for Squilliam. Squilliam Fancyson was a dead man walking. It was time to end this. It was time to end everything.

The flames hungrily devoured Squilliam's diary. Spongebob dropped it to the floor. It fell open on the last page.

'… _time. Dennis has everything prepared. Once I've bought this painting from Quality, I'll kill Squidward myself and get out of this wretched city. I will always be the best! I've won! This will be the end of my battle! My life's goal is complete! So long, Squidward Tentacles!_

_Squilliam._'

The last piece of paper burned away. The ashes lay on the floor in a miserable pile. Spongebob kicked them away. Squilliam Fancyson may as well be dead now.

Spongebob stood. It was time to go. He returned to the bathroom. The water on the floor had drained away long ago. He picked up the axe and tucked it into the back of his pants. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a towel. There was no sign of Squidward's beloved brown shirt anywhere, so this would have to do for preserving Squidward's dignity and warmth. Returning to the bedroom, Spongebob wrapped the towel tightly around Squidward's torso. With a little effort, he picked up Squidward's spindly form and slung him over his back. The next stop was the hospital. It would have to be Bikini Bottom General. Forrest genuinely cared about Squidward. Spongebob was sure of that. Even if the doctor was a treacherous bastard who wanted to lock Spongebob away, he was sure that he would take care of Squidward.

Spongebob made slow progress, heaving Squidward down the stairs and out of the door. Squidward was taller than Spongebob, so his limbs dragged on the floor. Spongebob took one last look at Squidward's monumental head of a home. He may well never come back. He looked over at Patrick's rock. No doubt the starfish was still snoring idly away in there. Perhaps he may get to see Patrick again. One day. Turning, Spongebob looked across at his beloved pineapple. How much love and joy had gone through that house? He smiled fondly. He was going to miss it.

Suddenly, day broke and the sun rose. The entire landscape was bathed in golden light. Spongebob beamed into the beams of light.

"Thanks for sharing this moment with me, Squidward," he murmured. This would be the last time he got to watch the sunrise with Squidward. Why did his friend always have to be asleep?

Spongebob felt Squidward stir on his back.

"Spongebob…"

With just that simple word, Spongebob's heart lifted. Squidward was awake. They really were sharing the moment together. Smiling, Spongebob began to walk. He only just heard Squidward's next word.

"Thanks…"

* * *

The pair of them reached the hospital without another word. However, when they arrived, Spongebob instantly dived into some nearby bushes.

Police boats.

Spongebob held his breath. Why were there police boats outside Bikini Bottom General? Could they be looking for him?! No, that was ridiculous. If so, why would they be at the hospital?

Spongebob gently set Squidward down in the bushes.

"Just stay here, OK, Squid?"

Squidward feebly nodded. It wasn't like he could go anywhere alone anyway.

Spongebob crept through the bushes, slowly approaching the hospital. He had to find out what was going on before he brought Squidward any closer.

As he drew very close, he could hear the police talking to a couple of the doctors, neither of whom were Forrest.

"Did you notice any signs of depression recently?" asked one of the policemen.

"Nothing, officer. I mean, he was shaken up pretty badly by the recent murder – he was a friend of the victims, as you know – but for the most part, he seemed reasonably content. He kept working happily, for the most part."

"Did he say anything last night relating to his suicide?"

"Not that I heard. He actually seemed at his most upbeat since Dutchnight."

One of the officers nodded and wrote something down.

"Alright. You can go."

Spongebob frowned. So someone had committed suicide? But who?

The two policemen were talking to each other.

"Man, this is getting confusing. First a double Dutchnight murder, now this?"

"Also, why is it that both Rechid and Forrest worked here? Do you think that two of the recent deaths being hospital staff is a coincidence, or a link?"

Spongebob's heart skipped a beat.

Forrest was dead.

Forrest had committed suicide.

And Spongebob knew what that meant. He, Spongebob, had cursed Forrest to die by the Dutchman's curse. And now Forrest was dead, just like Sadie.

What was going on?

The policemen were still talking.

"Man, I don't know. This kind of wild speculating should be left to O'Malley."

"Speaking of which, where the hell is O'Malley? I'd have thought she'd be crawling all over this."

"That's the weird thing. O'Malley's missing. She hasn't been seen since last night."

Spongebob's heart skipped another beat. O'Malley too?! Spongebob had cursed her too! Surely… surely he couldn't somehow _control_ the Dutchman's curse?!

Spongebob crawled back to Squidward. The octopus was sat up with open eyes, a relieving sight.

"Wha- What's going on, Spongebob?" Squidward asked weakly.

"Forrest and O'Malley are dead," replied Spongebob simply, his mind occupied.

"What?!" Squidward tried to sit up sharply, a futile effort. "Forrest's dead?!"

Spongebob nodded. Squidward frowned sadly.

"We can't stay here," Spongebob told him. "I don't trust any of the other doctors to look after you. We're going to a safe place."

Spongebob heaved Squidward back onto his back. There were no complaints. As Spongebob began to walk away, he heard Squidward's feeble voice.

"Spongebob?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Thank you… for everything you're doing…"

Spongebob smiled.

"You're welcome, Squidward."

* * *

Spongebob and Squidward walked and walked without another word. All the way, Spongebob was frantically trying to work out what was going on. Everybody he had wished the Dutchman's curse upon had died. Sadie, Forrest, O'Malley. Spongebob had effectively killed them all. This thought somehow lifted Spongebob's spirits. He had saved Squidward from those people. He really could control the Dutchman's curse.

Spongebob smiled to himself.

He could save Squidward from anything and anyone. All he had to do was wish it and he could end them forever. Squidward would never again be hurt. To hold such power was exhilarating and somewhat terrifying. Spongebob was effectively God. He held the power. This city should be worshipping him, not some absurd old ghost story. And Squidward would be safe. Always.

The pair of them entered the Kelp Forest. Spongebob's goal was his beloved Grandma's old cottage; nobody but him ever went there. There, he would have to do his best to nurse Squidward back to health himself. As Spongebob slowly trudged down the road, he wondered if the Kelp Forest could be killed by the Dutchman's curse. It would be amusing to watch the entire green mass fall as one.

Spongebob shook his head. He had to focus. He had to protect Squidward.

Spongebob grew tired. Squidward was heavier than he was and seemed to be growing heavier by the minute.

"Hey, Squid? I'm just gonna stop for a rest, OK?"

"Mmm… sure…"

Spongebob smiled fondly. Squidward was oddly cute when he was in such a terrible state. It was still preferable for him to be angry and alright.

Spongebob set Squidward down just off the side of the road, far enough into the vines to be hidden. He lay down next to Squidward with a heavy sigh.

Spongebob suddenly sat up. What was that noise? He strained his ears.

Scallops. A lot of them, by the sound of it. They were close. Why? Scallops were never usually in such large numbers. Was there a food source nearby? A dead animal?

"Just stay here a sec, Squidward. I'm just gonna go see why the scallops are making so much noise."

"Mmm…"

Spongebob made his way through the tangles of kelp. As the cries of the scallops grew louder, he could see that there was a clearing up ahead. The scallops were there. He could see them, fluttering around and chirping.

Spongebob could smell blood. A dead animal, then. Scallops were disgusting scavengers. Fondly, he remembered the only pleasant scallop he had ever encountered; little Junior, who he and Patrick had raised themselves. Spongebob found himself hoping that Junior was alright. That was no good. He had to focus on his primary protection target. He had to protect Squidward.

Spongebob emerged into the clearing and was surprised to see a tall stone structure, almost black. He remembered this; the shrine of the Flying Dutchman, built specially for human sacrifices, once upon a time. If he remembered correctly, his own beloved grandmother had once been head of this shrine. Spongebob smiled wryly. Did that mean his grandmother was effectively worshipping him? A thought occurred to him. Maybe that was how he had this power over the Dutchman's curse. Because of his grandmother's devotion to the Dutchman, it had granted her grandson its powers. That was an interesting idea. Spongebob turned his attention back to the shrine – _his_ shrine.

The scallops were all flocking around the grim monument. Had something died there? The stench of blood was overpowering. Spongebob covered his nose with his hand and stepped closer.

Wait.

What if whatever had died here was someone Spongebob had condemned to die by the Dutchman's curse? O'Malley was the most likely candidate, if that was the case. She was the one who hadn't been found. Spongebob stepped closer. The scallops were obstructing his vision. Spongebob pulled the axe from his pants and dived into the pack of scavenging shellfish.

"Get back! Go on! Go away, you disgusting scavengers!"

Spongebob hacked away, killing scores of the scallops. The survivors fled into the sky. Spongebob watched them go and idly thought that it would be nice to be able to fly. He turned back to the shrine.

His heart stopped.

"Wha-?! No! I- I didn't- I didn't wish for this! What's going on?!"

Plankton was dead.

He was everywhere. The microbe's tiny body had been carved into tiny pieces and strewn across the rock. The amount of blood in that minute body was shocking. The black rock was dripping and stained with dark red.

How could this be?! Spongebob hadn't wished for Plankton's death! He hadn't hated the tiny villain, who had done nothing to Squidward! This couldn't be because of the Dutchman's curse! Spongebob was the master of that! Spongebob was the god here! How dare somebody else murder without his leave, on the shrine that worshipped Spongebob and no other!

There was a scream.

Spongebob's heart stopped again.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned to face the petrified Squidward.

Squidward was staring at him with the most horrified look of horror Spongebob had ever seen.

"Wha- What have you done?!" screamed Squidward.

Spongebob stared back. What was Squidward talking about? Clearly, Spongebob wasn't responsible for this! He was Squidward's protector! He was Spongebob, the kindest, gentlest, friendliest creature in Bikini Bottom! He would never murder anyone like this! How could Squidward not trust him?!

Spongebob's heart sank as he realised the answer to that.

Squidward believed him to be a murderer because he was one. He may not have killed Plankton, but the deaths of Sadie, Forrest and O'Malley were his responsibility, and he had brutally murdered Squilliam with his own hands, whether it had been real or not. He wasn't Spongebob Squarepants anymore. He wasn't kind, gentle or friendly. He was a murderous monster. As Spongebob followed Squidward's gaze to the bloodstained axe in his hand, he knew exactly why Squidward didn't trust him.

He wasn't trustworthy.

"S-Spongebob! Why did you kill him?!" screamed Squidward.

Spongebob took a step forward.

"Squidward…"

"GET BACK!" screamed Squidward, turning and fleeing into the forest. Spongebob stared hopelessly after him. He turned to look at the dead scallops littered around him. Any one of them could have been Junior, his own beloved, adopted child. And he had mindlessly butchered them all. Tears began to flow freely from Spongebob's eyes. He scrubbed them away resolutely.

_One more time_, he vowed. _I will save Squidward_.

And he ran into the forest after his friend.

* * *

It took too long to find Squidward. Spongebob passed the towel, snagged on a strand of kelp. Squidward would be cold.

Spongebob kept running. He emerged onto the road a way down from where they had been before. Tears kept falling as Spongebob ran.

"Squidward!" he yelled.

As he left the Kelp Forest and kept running down the road, Squidward came into view. He was still running, stark naked, crying out in pain with every step. Where had that energy come from? Mere minutes ago, Squidward had been barely able to stand by himself.

Spongebob kept running, bypassing the ruins of his grandma's cottage without a second glance. Only one person was important now. The one who was still alive, and Spongebob had to keep that way.

Squidward kept running.

Spongebob kept running.

Squidward stopped running.

He could not run any further for two reasons. One was that he was on his last legs; the other four had given out from exhaustion already, and his remaining two were on the brink of doing the same. The other reason was the tremendous, enormous pit before him.

Squidward and Spongebob had reached Rock Bottom.

Spongebob stopped running a few feet away from Squidward. Squidward turned to face him and screamed again.

"Get away from me!" Squidward took a step back in fear.

"Watch out, Squidward!" called Spongebob desperately. "I promise I won't hurt you!"

"Then why the hell do you have that axe?!" screeched Squidward.

Spongebob looked down at his hand. _Idiot_! He was still clutching the axe!

Spongebob tossed the axe away.

"Squidward, please listen to me! I swear I didn't kill Plankton! I just used the axe to get the scallops away!"

Squidward was staring at him in paranoid disbelief. There was no convincing him.

"Squidward! I swear! I just want to protect you! All this time, I've been trying to save you from Squilliam! That's why… that's why I killed him on the night of Dutchnight!"

Squidward stared at him in shock.

Spongebob grinned frantically.

"I killed him! I definitely did! I don't understand why you're still hurting, or why his grave was empty, but I did kill him! I killed him for you, Squidward! I'll kill anyone I have to protect you from!"

Squidward took another step back.

"Squidward! Watch out for the edge! Listen, I will do anything for you, kill anyone for you! I can! I can control the Dutchman's curse! Everyone I've wished to die by the Dutchman's curse has died! Sadie! Forrest! O'Malley! I killed them with my godly powers! You don't have to be afraid ever again! I can protect you from anything! I can do anything!"

Spongebob ceased his ranting, panting heavily and staring at Squidward with a manic, hopeful smile. He held out his hand for Squidward to take.

Squidward did not move. Tears began to roll down his face.

"I'm sorry, Spongebob."

Spongebob was startled.

"What?!"

"I'm so sorry, Spongebob. I'm sorry for everything. You're possessed by the Dutchman. It's haunting me, even now."

Spongebob was speechless.

"It hates me!" Squidward yelled. "The Flying Dutchman… has cursed my entire life! Everyone I care about has been taken from me! My mother was killed by it! Squilliam tortured me because of it! It killed Fred and Sadie! Now it's possessed you and driven you insane! I tried to protect you, Spongebob, I swear I did! I tried to keep you and everyone else away… because… because I'm a curse! I'm the Dutchman's curse on Bikini Bottom! Everything is because of me! I kill everything I touch! I destroy everything! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Squidward curled into a ball, still screaming apologies as tears poured down his face.

Spongebob wept too.

Spongebob ran towards Squidward, arms outstretched.

"It's OK, Squidward! Don't cry anymore! I'll save you! I'll always protect you!"

Squidward screamed as Spongebob ran for him.

_Why is this happening_?

"NO!"

_I want to return_…_ to that perfect Bikini Bottom_…

"No…"

_Bikini Bottom_… _this cursed city_… _should die_…_ by the Dutchman_'_s curse_…

And Spongebob was flung over Squidward's head into the abyss.

_I_'_ll always_…_ protect you_…

And Spongebob Squarepants fell into the darkness.

* * *

_The following is an extract from the book _'_When the Scallops Cry_', _by Spongebob Squarepants_.

'And that's how everything ended. That is how I failed to save Squidward. I'll never truly understand what happened. I don't even know whether Squilliam ever died or not. All I know is that I fell into Rock Bottom. My back was shattered, but I survived. I alone survived. Shortly after, I was apparently found by none other than Flatts the Flounder, the one arrested for the fourth Dutchnight murder instead of Squidward. I'm told he rescued me from the monsters down there and got me to some guards, who took me to a Shell City hospital before the end came. I've been in this bed ever since. I'll never move any part of my body but my face again. When I finally regained consciousness, the doctors suggested I record my experiences as a book, dictated by me, as a means of passing the time. I decided to devote my life to telling the story, because I felt that having survived, I owe something to the dead, and anyone who does not remember betrays them again. I betrayed them too many times already, after all; I sent the whole of Bikini Bottom to its undeserved death. Patrick; Sandy; Mr. Krabs… all of my beloved friends, they're gone forever, and it's my fault. I just wish I could have done something to prevent the tragedy that occurred. I really am pathetic. I suppose, to use my cursed powers one more time… I should die by the Dutchman's curse as well.'

* * *

The hospital room was dark. A heart monitor beeped repeatedly, evenly. All was silent. It was night. The broken sponge lay on the bed, asleep. The heart monitor beeped on. There was no movement in the room. The broken sponge felt nothing. The heart monitor beeped on. The world was asleep. Night ruled and the world was falling.

The heart monitor stopped. Spongebob Squarepants was dead.

* * *

Let's be friends… forever.

Let's be strong… forever.

Let's forget everything… forever.

Let's rise over everything… forever.

Let's be together… forever.

When the Scallops Cry, War Arc

Part One: Fabian Strategy

Can you believe?

* * *

Ah, the return of the raging pants. The next arc contains lots of plot-important but kind of dull backstory. Oh well. Look forward to it!


	16. War - Fabian Strategy

The fourth arc begins, in the form of a not-very-faithful adaptation of Himatsubushi-hen. Five chapters of backstory. Shortly after that, we can start to get into the answer arcs. But for now, try to enjoy this bit, slow as it is.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

War Arc

Part One – Fabian Strategy

* * *

My name is Eugene Krabs. I'm a crab. I was born in 1890 in the nation of Bikini Bottom.

I've always loved Bikini Bottom. Everyone who lives here does. It's a proud and beautiful place. According to the old legends of the Flying Dutchman, the town was born not from common ethnic backgrounds or from ambitions; Bikini Bottom originated with a group of completely separate people trying to save one man's life. These strangers working together for a common good gave birth to a legend; Bikini Bottom, the oldest and greatest of all the underwater states in the Pacific and in the world. The nation has always been held together simply by the fellowship its citizens automatically hold. We're all very patriotic here and refuse to bow to any other power, but we will welcome any good-hearted newcomer with warmth.

I was raised on such tales by my mother, Betsy Krabs. She's a magnificent woman; strong and witty, the ideal crab female. She could easily best any man in a fight, even in her old age. She had to raise me alone; my father died in a war with a neighbouring state, Kazan, shortly before I was born. I think that was the only challenge she ever really had to struggle to face; she loved my father dearly and I was a bit of a handful. The biggest problem about my father's death was that we became poor shortly after. My mother worked in stone mines, which is a perfectly valid job, but was badly paid, due to there being no shortage of stone. She also had to take time off to give birth to me and raise me for a while, and there was no pay for maternity leave.

Despite this, Bikini Bottom was at its strongest ever. The war with Kazan that killed my father was won and we absorbed the state in a union that clearly put us on top. Shortly after, we successfully took control of the pit known as Rock Bottom, from which vicious monsters had emerged to terrorise our citizens for generations. These monsters were forcibly tamed and added to the ranks of our tremendous military, the strongest in the Pacific. We were rich, we were powerful. We were a roaring fire. It seemed like the entire ocean was ours. But there was one problem.

In the 1870s, the United States of America realised the potential of the nations under the sea. There were plentiful resources and controlling the depths would give them a strategic advantage over any other land nation in the Pacific. With this in mind, they created a state themselves; Shell City. Countless unaligned sea creatures were put together in a state, equipped with new, American weapons and tasked with capturing the Pacific.

The technology of Shell City was far in advance of anything seen in the Pacific before and the forces of Shell City had expanded the tiny artificial state from its base near Hawaii across an area roughly the size of the United States itself by 1900.

Obviously, the two great powers of the Pacific were destined to clash; the puppet state that sought to control the ocean and the free state that sought to control itself. By 1911, the forces of Shell City were at our gates. But that part of the story can wait; for now, let's stick to me.

* * *

Eugene Krabs looked around somewhat nervously. It was his first day in a school and Bikini Bottom Elementary was a large and confusing place. As he took his allocated seat and tried to listen to the teacher explaining how the register worked, all he could really focus on was wanting to get back home, to his mother. Still, when the teacher called out 'Eugene Krabs', he dutifully replied with 'Aye!' It was confusing to see the strange looks multiple people gave him, but he ignored them.

"Sheldon Plankton?"

"Here."

Eugene blinked. Had he really just heard that? There was somebody called _Sheldon_ in his class?

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he barked with laughter. "_SHELDON_! That's hilarious! Who the hell is called _Sheldon_?!"

After another ten seconds or so of laughter, Eugene realised that the whole class was glaring at him. He blushed, embarrassed, and gave a little chuckle and a shrug.

"It's a funny name, is all," he muttered.

The glares continued. Eugene shrank into his chair and shut up. The class turned away and looked towards the front again.

Eugene remained silent for the rest of the day, fiddling with his rags and looking at the floor without a word every time the teacher asked him a question.

_I really made a fool of myself back there_,_ didn_'_t I_? he thought.

Eugene leapt out of his seat with joy when the bell rang. Finally, he could get out of here! He couldn't bear the thought that he would have to come here every day for the next fourteen years.

Eugene did not get far out of the door, however, before he was stopped by some boys from his class. They were scowling at him. Eugene didn't like the scowls.

"You think you're funny, rag boy?" one of them asked.

"Hey, what's up with the rags, anyway? How goddamn poor are you?"

Eugene's lip quivered.

"M-My mommy made me this shirt… we just don't have much money, is all… the stone mines don't pay that well, she said…"

The kids laughed.

"She works in the stone mines?! Now that's hilarious, rag boy, not somebody called Sheldon!"

Eugene glared at them with tears in his eyes.

"Hey, don't be mean to my mommy!"

"Aww, look, he's gonna start crying! We're sorry, rag boy! We won't be mean to your mommy again; we'll just focus on you!"

One of the boys suddenly punched Eugene in the jaw. Eugene fell over in shock, clutching his wounded face. He began to sob.

"Aww, Johnny, you made him cry! That was mean!"

"Oh, my bad, rag boy!"

The boys began to kick at Eugene, who rolled around helplessly on the floor, sobbing pitifully. After a minute, the boys stepped back.

"Come on, this is boring. Let's go play with a proper football."

"Yeah! Football!"

The boys ran away, one of them holding a black and white sphere. That's what a proper football looks like. He set it down and they began to kick it around, laughing.

Eugene pulled himself up off of the floor, still sobbing. A tiny student with one eye walked past, glanced at him briefly, then hurried away. Eugene followed the student out of the gate then turned right and dragged himself home.

He didn't greet his mother when he entered his house. If she found out what had happened, there would only be more trouble. That was the last thing he wanted. Instead, he slunk up to his room, locked the door and slumped onto the bed, crying into his pillow. His jaw hurt. He didn't want to go back to school tomorrow. He simply lay on his bed for the rest of the night, ignoring his mother telling him to open the door, dreading the break of day.

However, the following day, he got up as instructed, dressed himself in his rag shirt and left the house glumly.

Nobody punched him that day. This did not mean he did not have to endure cruel and mocking comments for the remainder of the day.

"I love your shirt, rag boy."

"You wanna tell us another joke, rag boy?"

It continued, day after dreadful day. Mrs. Krabs was left in the dark the entire time; she had no idea why her beloved son, usually so bright and cheerful and energetic, had become so gloomy and quiet.

Eugene noticed that the kids did not just bully him; the tiny one-eyed student he had seen on the first day was frequently bullied too. He didn't know the kid's name; all the bullies ever called him was 'nerd', because of how much he studied complex books.

Despite the bullying both children endured, neither of them ever approached each other or even learned each other's names. Neither had any idea that they would soon form a close friendship so strong that it could break destiny.

* * *

A few weeks into the term, on a Saturday, Eugene was slyly applying a plaster to a cut on his leg that he had got the day before when some kid had thrown him into the bin. He cursed silently to himself and bit his lip as he felt the wound sting. He couldn't wait to mature and grow a strong shell. According to his mother, his father's shell had been so strong it could repel knives. Why didn't he have a shell like that?

"Eugene!" called his mother. "Where are you?"

Eugene pulled his shirt down to cover the plaster and stepped out into the hall to greet his mother with a plastic beam.

"Here, Mommy!"

Betsy Krabs smiled down at her son. _That smile is fake_, she thought. _I just wish I knew what was wrong with him_.

"Would you mind doing a little errand for me?"

"Sure thing, Mommy!" cried Eugene with real enthusiasm. He loved to help out his mother whenever possible.

Mrs. Krabs held out a wrapped package.

"I need you to take this to a friend of mine. It's her birthday today, but the mine just called me and said that they need help with a tunnel collapse. She lives in a little cottage near the Jellyfish Fields. Her name's Grandma Squarepants. I mean, that's not her name, but everybody just calls her that. I don't know why. She doesn't even have any grandchildren yet. I think you might have seen her before; she runs the shrine of the Dutchman. Is that alright, honey?"

Eugene nodded energetically. It didn't matter that he had no idea where he was going. He could ask for directions.

* * *

Within minutes of leaving the house, Eugene was hopelessly lost. He had absolutely no idea where the Jellyfish Fields were.

"Excuse me?" he asked a man walking by. The man ignored him.

"Excuse me?" he asked a woman walking with two children about Eugene's age. The woman hurried her children away. Why was everybody ignoring him? Most likely, they thought he was some kind of beggar. Bastards.

Eugene turned around. Was there anybody he could ask who wouldn't just ignore him?

That was when he spotted him, walking around idly. The nerd. The tiny amoeba or whatever he was. Surely a fellow reject of society wouldn't refuse to give him directions?

Eugene scuttled towards the nerd.

"Hey! You!"

The nerd turned around, looking vaguely surprised.

"Huh? Ah!"

Eugene reached the nerd and looked down at him.

"Hey! You're in my class at school, aren't you?"

Looking very reserved, the nerd nodded and took a step back.

"Hi, I'm Eugene Krabs."

"I know."

Eugene blinked in surprise. This kid knew who he was?

"Er… what's your name?"

"Sheldon J. Plankton. Please don't laugh again, it's very annoying."

Eugene swallowed the cackle that he was about to unleash. So _this _was the kid called Sheldon!

"If you have to call me anything at all, I'd rather you call me Plankton. Now, did you actually want anything or are you just talking to waste time? I'm busy."

Eugene blinked.

"Er… doing what?"

Plankton indicated the scallops fluttering around in the sky.

"I'm studying the behaviour of scallops, specifically the areas in which they are common or uncommon and trying to understand which factors influence their movements between areas."

Eugene had stopped listening at 'scallops', but nodded dumbly to be polite.

"So? Are you going to answer my question?"

"What was it again?" asked Eugene.

Plankton sighed angrily.

"What do you want?"

Eugene blinked in surprise. He'd completely forgotten what he was meant to be doing.

"Oh! Yeah! I'm lost!"

Plankton glared at him.

"That's very helpful. Are you trying to go somewhere specific?"

Eugene nodded.

"I need to get to the Jellyfish Fields. I'm looking for the house of someone called 'Grandma Squarepants'. Do you know her?"

Plankton blinked in surprise.

"Why are you looking for Grandma Squarepants?"

Eugene held up the present.

"She's friends with my mommy. Mommy wanted to give her this birthday present, but she was busy at the mine, so she asked me to take it instead."

Plankton looked very surprised.

"So your mother is Mrs. Krabs? I didn't know she had children."

Eugene was equally surprised.

"Wait, you know Mommy?"

"Of course I do. She's friends with Grandma."

"So you do know Grandma Squarepants?"

"Obviously. I live with her."

Eugene's jaw dropped.

"Wait, I thought she didn't have any grandchildren!"

"She doesn't. I'm her adopted son."

Finally, Eugene understood. All of this was very complicated.

"Great! So, can you give me directions?"

Plankton looked up at the scallops.

"To be honest, I was just about to go back anyway, so I'll just take you there."

Eugene smiled, then frowned.

"Wait, what about that thing with the scallops or whatever?"

Plankton smirked.

"Oh, I just made that up to try to get you to go away. However, thinking about it, it actually sounds quite interesting, so I think I'll give it a go some time."

Eugene raised an eyebrow.

"Alright then, lead the way, Planky!"

"Please don't call me that."

* * *

The pair of loners walked for half an hour or so. Every step of the way, Plankton told Eugene what they were doing three times in an effort to make him remember if he ever had to come again.

At last, they reached the home of Grandma Squarepants. It looked like a very pleasant little cottage. Smoke was rising from the little chimney. The building radiated warmth. Eugene felt happier just by looking at it. He looked sideways at Plankton.

"You live here?!"

The friendly, inviting cottage with its scent of freshly-baked cookies seemed completely at odds with the scowling microbe beside Eugene.

"Yes. So?"

Eugene shrugged, smirking.

"It just doesn't seem to suit you, is all."

Eugene started walking down the garden path. Plankton followed, glaring at Eugene's back.

Eugene knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal a kindly-looking middle-aged sponge woman.

"Hello, young man? What can I do for you?"

Plankton poked his head around Eugene.

"Hi, Grandma. I'm back."

Grandma Squarepants smiled.

"Oh, hello, Sheldon! Have you made a friend?"

Plankton scoffed.

"Hardly. This is Mrs. Krabs' son. He has a birthday present from her."

Eugene held up the present, beaming. This woman was just so nice! It was surely impossible to dislike her!

"Oh, thank you! Eugene, isn't it?"

Eugene nodded.

"Why don't you come in? I just finished making some cookies."

Eugene gasped in delight.

"Really?! Is that OK?!"

Grandma Squarepants smiled again.

"Of course. I'd be happy to have you."

Behind Eugene, Plankton was looking concerned. Grandma Squarepants peered over the crab and smiled down at him.

"Don't worry, Sheldon. If he's anything like his mother, he's a lovely person."

Eugene smiled.

Plankton grudgingly walked into the cottage with Eugene.

Grandma Squarepants set a tray of beautiful-smelling cookies down on the table. Eugene sat in a seat, looking eager.

"I'm just going to go to the toilet quickly," said Plankton, walking out of the room.

"Alright," replied Grandma Squarepants.

"You'd better not eat all the cookies before I get back, Krabs!" called Plankton.

Eugene and Grandma Squarepants chuckled.

"You'll have to forgive Sheldon," she told him. "He's not very good with people. He just wants everything to be scientific and orderly. He gets annoyed with me for being too religious sometimes. He's never really had a friend before. If you wouldn't mind… would you try to become his friend?"

Even if Eugene had wanted to, he couldn't say no to this kind lady.

"Sure, I'll try!" he said. "Although… I'm not sure he'll be very… uh… receptive."

Grandma Squarepants chuckled.

"Well, do your best. I'm sure he'll come round."

Eugene smiled back at her.

Plankton returned and they both stopped talking.

He looked from one to the other, scowling.

"You were just talking about me, weren't you?"

They simultaneously shook their heads. Plankton scowled.

"Whatever."

He climbed up to his chair and grabbed a cookie. He began munching on it grumpily. Unable to contain themselves, both Eugene and Grandma Squarepants burst into laughter.

Plankton kept scowling.

* * *

Two days later, at school, Eugene approached Plankton during break.

"Hey, Planky," he greeted him.

Plankton looked up from his book.

"Huh? Oh, it's you, Krabs. I told you not to call me that, didn't I?"

Eugene sat down next to Plankton.

"What are you reading today?"

"It's called Paradise Lost. It's about the Christian religion, which I doubt you know anything about."

Krabs shook his head.

"Well, explaining is too much effort; if you want to know about it, you'll just have to research it yourself."

Of course, Plankton ended up explaining the entire plot of both the Bible and Paradise Lost to Eugene, which was followed by a heated debate about the nature of evil and whether or not Satan wore clothes.

"For the love of the Dutchman, Krabs, why does it matter if Satan wears clothes or not?!" yelled Plankton. "It's totally irrelevant!"

"But Adam and Eve didn't wear clothes, so if Satan was wearing clothes, wouldn't it make quite a lot of difference?! They'd be all like, 'Hey, what are those things on your body?' and he'd be like 'Oh, they're my clothes. I wear them so that I don't look like an idiot running around naked like you two' and then Adam and Eve would wear clothes without eating the apple, so Satan's plan would be foiled!"

Plankton facepalmed.

"Alright! Fine! Let's just say that you're right about that! Therefore, Satan doesn't wear clothes! Let's leave it at that, please!"

"But why would Satan not wear clothes?! Like I just said, he knows that he looks like an idiot if he's naked! This story has so many plot holes!"

"AAARRGGHH!"

"Hey, look everybody! The two losers are hanging out together!"

The smiles on the faces of both boys disappeared.

A small crowd was gathering around them. They were laughing. Jeering. Punching. Kicking. After a few minutes, they dispersed, leaving their battered and bruised victims sprawled in the dust. Eugene looked up. One boy, who appeared to be growing sideburns already, was still stood over them, smirking. He picked up Paradise Lost from the dirt.

"The hell is this? Some loser book?"

"Hey! Give that back!" yelled Eugene, jumping up and punching the boy square in the jaw.

The boy staggered back, looking shocked. He gritted his teeth and growled, then lunged for Eugene and punched him repeatedly in the face, punching him into the dirt. Eventually, the boy stood, wiped his chin, tore the book in half and threw it at Plankton, bowling him over just as the microbe was struggling to his feet. The boy stormed away.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Plankton matter-of-factly. "You just made things worse."

"He was messing with your book," said Eugene, struggling to stand. Plankton stood in front of him.

"Come on, Eugene. Stand up. Rise. You're not going to get beaten by this, are you? Both of your parents were incredibly strong crabs. They would be ashamed to see you sprawling in the dust without getting back up again."

Eugene glared at Plankton, until he realised that what he was hearing was encouragement. He grinned feebly.

"You're right, Planky. Thanks."

Plankton smirked.

"Whatever."

* * *

A few weeks later, the two of them were walking through the park, eating ice creams bought for them by Grandma Squarepants while Plankton explained why liquid nitrogen was much better for making ice cream than normal ice while Eugene pretended to listen.

As Plankton finished his ice cream, he stopped walking, looking at a balloon vendor.

"I've been meaning to investigate how balloons behave at different water pressures for a while…" he mused. He rummaged through his invisible pockets. They were empty.

"Barnacles," he muttered.

Meanwhile, Eugene hadn't noticed that Plankton had stopped walking and had carried on for a few metres, until he came across something shining on the ground. He bent down to pick it up.

It was a quarter. It was Eugene's very first time holding money himself. He stared, transfixed, at the tiny fish engraved onto the metal.

"It's… beautiful…" he murmured.

For the first time, he noticed Plankton wasn't with him. He looked back to see Plankton staring at the balloon vendor. He scuttled over to his friend.

"What's up, Planky? You wanna balloon?"

"Hmm…" replied Plankton. "I haven't got any money, though. Shame."

Eugene grinned.

"Leave this to me, Planky."

He scuttled up to the balloon vendor.

"Excuse me! How much are your balloons?"

The vendor smiled down at him.

"They're 25 cents each, young man. Can you afford it?"

Fortunately, Eugene missed the cruel joke and proudly held out the quarter.

"Yep!"

The vendor took the money and passed Eugene a balloon.

"Thanks very much!" he said, heading back to Plankton.

"Here you go, Planky!" he beamed, handing Plankton the balloon.

Plankton looked surprised.

"Where'd you get the money?" he asked, bewildered.

"It was on the floor!" replied the crab.

Plankton raised his eyebrow.

"Huh. Well, thanks."

He grinned evilly at the balloon.

"Soon, my pretty, you will be struggling for your life under immense water pressure! And nobody will save you! BLAHAHAHAAA!"

Eugene raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever."

He reached inside his shirt.

"Oh yeah, I fixed this for you!"

He handed Plankton the battered copy of Paradise Lost, thickly covered in sellotape.

"Thanks, Eugene. Hey, you said that you found that quarter just lying around on the floor?"

Eugene nodded.

"Why don't we look for more money? We might be able to buy a Stinky Burger if we can find enough."

Eugene stared at him blankly.

"We can buy a what?"

"A Stinky Burger. They're these horrible burgers sold by a horrible guy who lives in a dump. They're really popular."

Eugene was very confused.

"I am very confused," he said.

"Whatever. Let's just find some money. I wanna try these burgers at least once. I need to see what the big deal is."

* * *

Within a week, they had found enough cash from the ground of Bikini Bottom to afford a single Stinky Burger. Eagerly, the two of them had raced to the dump and waited in line, ignoring the sneers and glares sent their way.

At last, they reached the end of the line.

"One Stinky Burger, please!" announced Eugene, while a grinning Plankton held the cash aloft.

Stinky, the owner, smirked down at them.

"Get out of here, boys."

The two friends looked up in shock.

"What?" asked Eugene.

Stinky grinned down at them.

"It's nothing personal, kids. It's just that freaks like you two are bad for business. Now come on, get outta here. I got hungry customers waiting."

The child behind them chuckled.

"But-!"

"Get out, rag boy and nerd! Nobody wants you!"

Suddenly, the pair of them were lifted up by some of the children around them. They carried them a short distance before throwing them into a heap of rubbish. The entire dump laughed at them as they slunk away, dejected.

* * *

Eugene and Plankton sat on the edge of a cliff in the Jellyfish Fields, watching the slow descent of the sun.

"Why does the entire world hate us, Planky?" asked Eugene sadly. "Why can nothing ever be in our favour, just once?"

"The entire world doesn't hate us, Eugene," Plankton replied. "There are millions upon millions of people who don't have the faintest idea who we are. They don't hate us. Your mother doesn't hate us. Grandma doesn't hate us. I think that's the end of the list."

Eugene scowled.

"Is that all the comfort you can give?"

Plankton nodded glumly.

Eugene sighed.

"It's like we're cursed by the Dutchman to have endless bad luck. I don't get why. Satan had the right idea, really. God's supposed to care for us, but instead God effectively betrayed us. We should rebel against God too. We should attack something that God holds dear."

Plankton smacked his friend round the head.

"Don't be an idiot, Eugene. This isn't the work of the Dutchman or any other God. This is the work of natural creatures. The only thing we should rebel against should be them."

Eugene shrugged.

"That's a great idea, Planky. But what can we do against everybody around us?"

"More than we can do against God."

They stared into the sky for a while. A flock of crying scallops flew overhead.

"Say, Planky. Did you ever do anything about that behaviour of scallops thing?"

Plankton thought.

"So far, all I know is that they tend to flock to where there are already a lot of scallops, because they know that those conditions must be favourable. Then they drive the first ones out and monopolise whatever was favourable about those conditions."

"Stupid scallops," sniffed Eugene.

Suddenly, Plankton's eye widened epiphanically.

"That's it! That's what we'll do!" yelled Plankton triumphantly, jumping to his feet.

"What?" asked Eugene, confused.

"We're not gonna take revenge! We're gonna win them over ourselves!"

"Huh?"

"The burgers! The burgers give that Stinky bastard power and influence, don't they? We need to swoop in like scallops and take it from him!"

"I'm not getting it."

"We'll make our own burger! A better burger! We'll sell it, it'll be insanely popular, and we'll run Stinky out of business!"

Eugene looked doubtful.

"I dunno, Planky. Are you really that confident we can make a better burger than Stinky's?"

"Of course! I'm a genius and you're bizarrely resourceful! It'll be a piece of cake! A piece of nice cake! We're a perfect combination, the ultimate team, Eugene! Together, there's nothing we can't do, except suck! We will make that burger! It will be the best burger ever! We will be victorious! Just like those scallops, we shall rise from the fallen ashes as a roaring flame, into the sky! It's time to take our rightful place in the world, Eugene! Are you with me?!"

Eugene stared at Plankton for a moment, then smiled.

"All the way, buddy. You and me, we'll rise over the whole world. Your overly hammy speech has convinced me. Let's do this!"

The two friends grinned at each other as the sun set, knowing that the setting of the sun was merely a prelude to another sunrise.

"Right! Tomorrow, come over to my house and we'll get started!"

Eugene scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah… I forgot how to get there…"

"Moron! Honestly… Right, listen _carefully_. Here are the directions…"

* * *

Don't fight… anymore.

Don't hate… anyone.

Don't run… away.

Don't leave… me.

When the Scallops Cry, War Arc

Part Two: Blitzkrieg

Can you believe?

* * *

I actually once had the whole 'Satan and clothes' debate in a maths lesson. Best maths lesson ever. Just to make sure, we all know who the Rika substitute is by now, right?


	17. War - Blitzkrieg

Hmm. I didn't really like how this chapter came out, but oh well. Also thanks to the second reviewer, Perfect Carnage. It's always nice to be praised.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

War Arc

Part Two – Blitzkrieg

* * *

The pact between the two best friends, Eugene Krabs and Sheldon J. Plankton, to create the greatest burger ever, was forged in the dark, as a promise to light a fire that would bring them out of that darkness. Despite this, a year later, very little progress had been made.

"You idiot! That's way more than half a gram!"

"Half a gram is a really small measurement! It's hard to get it right!"

"Well, maybe it would be easier if you didn't try to do it with big, meaty claws!"

"What did you say, _Sheldon_?!"

"Big! Meaty! Claws!"

"That's what I thought you said! Have at you!"

Eugene chased Plankton round and round their simmering pot. This was the third attempt of the day and everything was going wrong once again. Eventually, the two friends became too tired to run any further and collapsed to the floor of the little shack they'd made at the back end of the dump.

"It's hopeless, Planky," murmured Eugene, staring through the hole in the roof at the night sky, the stars twinkling and winking at him.

"Don't say that, Eugene. It only becomes hopeless when you give up. We're going to fly like scallops, remember?"

"Scallops are born flyers, Planky. A creature that can't fly from the start won't ever fly."

"Sure it will. Humans are doing it. They're learning to fly literally. It should be easy to do it figuratively."

"Yeah, it _should_ be. But the point is, it isn't. We can't do it, Planky. There's no winning this fight against the world. Maybe we should just stop rebelling against them and stay in our place. There are two kinds of creature; one stays put in its proper place and one has its foot in the other one's face. Look at me, Planky, look at you. Which ones do you think we are? It's time we just got used to it. We're losers and we always will be."

Plankton sat up, looking outraged.

"Don't say that! Don't even think like that for a minute, Krabs! I just said, the only thing that will make that true is if you think it! As long as you have hope, it exists! I still believe we can win! I still believe in our dreams! If you're not with me, then by the Dutchman I'll fight you too! Even if you're my enemy, I'll keep fighting! Surely you don't want to miss out on the spoils I'll get when I succeed?!"

Eugene stared at Plankton for a long moment. Finally, he smiled.

"Yeah," he replied. "Like hell I'm gonna let you take all of the riches!"

They laughed for a while. Then they stood and began to work once more.

_Wow_, thought Plankton. _I can_'_t believe that worked_. _Even I didn_'_t believe what I was saying_.

He looked across at Eugene, labouring hard with sweat on his brow and a smile on his face.

_Maybe I do now_. _If those words were good enough for Eugene_, _they_'_re good enough for me_.

* * *

The bullying only became worse throughout the year. Once somebody found out that the two friends were trying to create their own burgers, it fuelled the attacks of the bullies like pouring lighter fuel on a campfire, except it was much less fun.

"Hey, it's the burger boys!"

"Trying to replace Stinky, huh?! You little twerps!"

"We're tormenting you!"

"Stinky will always be better than you!"

"You suck!"

"We're still tormenting you!"

Plankton did his best to shrug off the abuse, but Eugene was suffering more and more. The boy was fragile, Plankton knew, and as a naturally extraverted person he craved friends, company and acceptance. Plankton was immeasurably thankful that the location of their base of operations was never discovered by their tormentors.

"Torment!"

There was another problem looming in the distance. It did not directly affect the boys, but the thunder clouds were rolling towards them from the horizon. Shell City, the other great power of the Pacific, was rising. The artificial puppet state was spreading its reach and heading towards Bikini Bottom. Tension was visible everywhere, even though Shell City remained a long way off, for now. The papers were always full of hype over every little move Shell City made. It was a popular topic of discussion everywhere, on buses, on park benches, in shopping queues, even in school. More than once, Plankton overheard his unnamed teachers discussing Shell City in hushed voices. Plankton often wondered if maybe this was part of Shell City's strategy; the entire population of Bikini Bottom seemed paranoid enough to start firing bombs in every direction at the slightest hint of hostility from any nation. Plankton had studied the history of the scientific forms of warfare, particularly psychological, from an early age, in great detail. Since the origins of warfare, warring states had deployed all sorts of methods to try to terrify and unnerve their enemies. Now, Shell City was doing the same; simply by reputation, they were transforming themselves in the eyes of the Bikini Bottomites into some kind of menace of biblical proportions. To Bikini Bottom, the coming of Shell City was turning into some kind of Judgement Day.

In spite of all this, Eugene and Plankton were able to continue working on their burger with relatively few interruptions, other than the frequent bouts of depression and pessimism coupled with the endless failures.

One day, however, Eugene found himself in the difficult position of having to comfort the person who had always been there to comfort him; his mother.

Eugene had known his mother was fretting over the grim political situation for a while. Even though she rarely talked about it, in contrast to the majority of the populace, it was clear that the thought of an impending war was troubling her. When Eugene mentioned this to Plankton, his friend carefully deduced and explained her feelings; she had lost her husband in Bikini Bottom's last war. She was therefore afraid to lose even more that was precious to her.

That night, when they had finished their dinner, Eugene walked over to his mother and embraced her.

"It's OK, Mom," he said into her shoulder. "Nothing bad is gonna happen with Shell City. You'll see. Even though there might be a war, we'll win and you won't lose anybody. I promise."

Betsy Krabs had smiled at her son kindly and thanked him for the comfort. Even so, as he lay in bed, Eugene couldn't help but doubt that he had comforted her at all.

As Plankton lay in bed too, thinking about his grandmother's worries about the political situation, he wondered how he could even hope to comfort her when he couldn't believe in any kind of hope himself.

* * *

It was the early days of their final year in high school. Eugene and Plankton sat by their cauldron in their shack at the back of the dump, waiting for it to boil over.

Eugene spoke up.

"Say, Plankton?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think this'll be the one? Do you think this recipe will work?"

"Sure it will. This is it, I can feel it."

Plankton had said the same thing with every recipe they had tried. Somehow, he found that it helped keep Eugene's hopes up.

Finally, the bubbling concoction was spilling over the edges of the cauldron. Eugene stood and carefully lifted the cauldron from its stand. As he had grown, his shell had finally toughened into one that bullies did not dare to punch for fear of breaking their fists. The shell similarly protected him from the heat of the cauldron. Plankton was pleased with the benefits his friend's shell provided.

Eugene set the cauldron down on the floor with gentle precision. He had once dropped a recipe before and Plankton had nearly drowned in the scalding meaty sludge.

"Alright, buddy. Let's do this."

Plankton scooped out some of the mixture and laid a slab on the grill. The pair of them eagerly watched it sizzling away. To their surprise, their nostrils were for once not assaulted by a foul stench, but instead a rather pleasant aroma.

Finally, it was done.

The two friends placed the experimental burger on a plate and Eugene sliced it in half. Each of them took a piece and, with a nod, took a bite.

They froze.

Time stood still.

It was _perfect_.

Their eyes gleaming with delight and tears of joy, Eugene and Plankton began to dance wildly around the shack, whooping and proclaiming their victory to the heavens.

They had done it.

"We did it! We actually did it!" yelled Plankton.

"We'll be rich and famous!" yelled Eugene.

"All of the kids will finally respect us!"

"We'll be loved by millions!"

"Yes! Imagine the power we could have!"

"The money we could earn!"

"We'll be almighty!"

"We could buy Shell City! Then Mom won't have to worry about them any more!"

"I'm not sure we'll be able to do that, Eugene."

"Why not?"

"Do you have any idea how much money that would take? It's a stupid idea."

"Well, sorry, Mr. Genius. What do you think we should do with our riches?"

"We'll buy power here. We can still solve the Shell City problem. What we need to do is get me into a position of power so that I can lead us against Shell City!"

"Oh, you think you could beat Shell City, do you?!"

"Of course I could. I'm a genius, remember? I can do anything I set my mind to. If I can make the perfect burger, I can use it to take power in Bikini Bottom and use that power to save Bikini Bottom."

Eugene frowned.

"Excuse me? You did not make that burger all by yourself. You couldn't achieve anything without my help."

"What are you talking about, Krabs? I could have done all of this without you; you were just here to be the workforce, so that I didn't have to get my hands dirty!"

"Oh yeah?! Well… you were just here to get me where I wanted to be! You're just a step for me to step on, to get up to better things!"

"Don't kid yourself, Krabs! I'm the elite one here!"

"You know what, you cocky, tiny punk?! I don't think you deserve the right to own these burgers! I'll just keep 'em to myself, and call them 'Krabby Patties'!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Just try and stop me, nerd!"

"Give me that recipe, rag boy!"

The two friends glared daggers at each other.

"What did you call me?!"

"Rag boy! The little crab who can't even afford clothes!"

"Oh yeah?! Well, once I'm selling these Krabby Patties and keeping all of the profits for myself, I'll be able to afford a lot more than just clothes!"

"Well, it's a shame that you won't be selling those burgers at all! I'm keeping them!"

"And how do you, you microscopic little pipsqueak, think that you can stop me?!"

Plankton glared at the floor.

"I knew it. I knew I couldn't trust a crab. All of you, you're just the same. Money-hoarding bastards, always throwing your weight around, putting cash before the lives of other creatures, bullying the weak; it's in your nature, in your very DNA that hasn't been discovered yet!"

"You got something against crabs, Plankton?!" growled Eugene.

Plankton looked up and laughed harshly.

"I sure do, Eugene! I hate the lot of you! Haven't you ever heard of the Crustaceo family?! They're a mob lot from Shell City, where I was born! Do you have any idea why they killed my parents right in front of me?! Because I sure as hell don't!"

Eugene gritted his teeth. Like hell he was going to give up because of Plankton's stupid sob story.

"Get out of here, Plankton!" he snarled. Without another word, he strode over to his former friend, picked him up by the antennae and hurled him out of the window of the shack into a heap of rubbish.

Eugene watched the microbe pick himself up out of the pile and slink away. He turned back to the newly-christened Krabby Patty formula and stuffed the recipe in his pocket. He walked away from the shack without looking back, ignoring the deep feeling of misery in his gut.

He was alone again.

* * *

The following day, Eugene trudged wearily to school. He had barely slept that night. The guilt over his fight with Plankton had occupied his mind, until he had decided that he wasn't guilty and shouldn't be. After all, it had been entirely Plankton's fault; Plankton should apologise, and if he did, Eugene might forgive him.

The pair of them ignored each other coldly throughout the day. There were no words, no glances – except when the other wasn't looking – and there were certainly no apologies to be heard.

At lunchtime, Eugene swallowed his last vestiges of guilt. He had no further use for Plankton. It was time to make his move.

He approached a tubby boy who'd never been particularly vehement in his bullying.

"Excuse me?" he said, smiling. The boy looked at him apathetically.

Eugene produced a fully prepared Krabby Patty from hammer space.

"Would you like to be the first to sample _my_ new burger? This one's free!"

The boy shrugged.

"Sure. It's not like it'll kill me."

He took the patty and swallowed it in one.

He froze.

His eyes lit up.

He smiled.

"Holy crap, Rag Boy! This is really good!"

Eugene smirked. Like making candy out of babies.

"Would you like another, for a dollar?" he asked slyly.

The boy thought for a moment, then nodded eagerly, producing a single dollar bill. Eugene took the money and handed the boy a second burger.

"I call it a Krabby Patty."

"Hey! Jimmy! What are you doing with Rag Boy?"

More kids approached. Eugene smirked again. Perfect.

"Rag Boy's actually made a good burger! Like, _really_ good!"

The others looked doubtful.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! Way better than Stinky's junk!"

Eugene chipped in.

"Krabby Patties, one dollar each! I'm willing to sell to almost anybody!"

A girl stepped forward, looking thoughtful.

"Alright, Rag Boy. I'll give one of your 'Krabby Patties' a try."

She handed him a dollar and took a Patty. When it was gone, she was beaming.

"Tha- That was amazing! How the hell did you manage that?!"

Eugene grinned.

"I think it helped once I ditched the nerd and started making them alone."

Within minutes, Krabby Patties were being handed out around the entire playground. Eugene's pockets were stuffed full of more cash than he'd ever even seen before. He had the whole school singing his praises. It was like heaven.

"Hey! Rag Boy!"

The schoolyard silenced as everybody turned to look at the tiny speaker. Plankton strode towards Eugene, steaming with rage.

He reached his former friend's feet and glared up at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Krabs?! I made those burgers and you stole my recipe! Give me the money and the recognition I deserve right now, or I swear, I'll…"

Plankton trailed off as Eugene glared down at him. The crab leaned over and picked up the microbe by the antennae once again. He held him up to his face and spat five words at him.

"Get out of here, nerd."

And with that, Eugene hurled Plankton all the way across the school yard.

Several boys clapped him on the back.

"Good throw, Rag Boy."

* * *

Life went on. Eugene and Plankton did not speak to each other again for the duration of their time in school together.

Through the Krabby Patties, Eugene became more popular. Generally, he was still disliked, but the bullies laid off him a bit and after some time, he had earned enough money to buy himself a group to hang around with. It wasn't a perfect life, but it was a better one. He gradually began to improve the standard of living of both himself and his mother.

In spite of this positive change in lifestyle, Eugene could tell that his mother disapproved of his behaviour. Even though she never said it, he knew that she saw in him a trace of a Shell Citizen; his capitalist greed for money and placing himself first did indeed bear an eerie resemblance to the people of the great power that grew ever nearer.

Throughout this period, Plankton worked feverishly to remember and recreate the Krabby Patty formula, yet every recipe he tried ended in failure. Grandma Squarepants was able to offer no comfort as her beloved adopted son steadily became completely obsessed with the Krabby Patty secret formula. She simply lamented the lost beautiful friendship that he and Eugene had shared.

The pair of them left school and fully intended never to see each other again. Eugene's goal was simply to settle down and run a business with the Krabby Patties. But the war was approaching.

* * *

It was 1909. Eugene was sat at a bar, drinking and chatting to random strangers.

Suddenly, the doors opened and the most beautiful sight Eugene had ever seen strolled into the bar.

She was a whale, the most gorgeous whale Eugene had ever laid eyes on. The woman before him put even money to shame.

Without even registering what he was doing, Eugene began to walk towards the woman.

The two had hit it off right from the start. Within minutes, they were chatting and laughing together. At the end of the evening, she left with a promise to meet again.

The two were dating seriously mere days after their first meeting. Soon enough, they moved into a house together. After a few months, Eugene had proposed.

Their wedding had been a joyful one. For the first time, all thoughts of Plankton were driven from Eugene's head. He had a beautiful life. But it was not to last. The storm clouds were still gathering. The storm was about to break.

Two years later, he received the news of his wife's pregnancy straight from the whale's mouth, just as he walked in through the front door. Even as they embraced joyfully, however, the radio was ready to give them grim news.

"The forces of Shell City have been waiting at the borders of our territories for three months now as negotiations have taken place. Yesterday, the negotiations closed in disaster with the death of a Shell City ambassador. As of now, the two nations of Bikini Bottom and Shell City are at war. The United States of America has stated that it will play no part in this war, so our glorious nation will most likely be able to not only defeat Shell City but liberate a great deal of its territories as well. We look to our flag with pride. Bikini Bottom, we love you!"

Eugene looked at his wife grimly. When she met his gaze with a similar expression, however, he smiled gently.

"You know I have to go and join up. It's in me nature. I'm a sailor and a fighter. It's my duty and my honour."

She continued to gaze at him sadly.

He patted her belly.

"It's OK, honey. I'm sure I'll be back by the time the little one's born. I promise I'll survive. I'll come back to you."

Despite his wife's misgivings, Eugene went to sign up for the navy the following day. Even as he signed up, he remembered his own childhood, growing up without a father and a grieving mother. He would not put his child through that.

He would be back.

* * *

I've run… too far.

I've run… for too long.

I've run… from the truth.

I've run… enough.

I've stopped… running.

I'm facing… the truth.

I've run… out of ideas for these things.

When the Scallops Cry, War Arc

Part Three: Shock and Awe

Can you believe?

* * *

Yeah... The next one's a slight improvement, I swear.


	18. War - Shock and Awe

So this chapter's a bit better than the last one. However, it is full of TACTICS and MILITARY, so it may not be everyone's cup of tea. However, tactics and strategy are my cup of tea, more so than real tea, which I'm not all that fond of, so I had to throw in at least one chapter that's just full of blocks of tactics. And I'm the one writing this, so if I want things in the story, they go in the story.

* * *

When the Scallops Cry

War Arc

Part Three – Shock and Awe

* * *

Training in the navy was tough, but Krabs found himself to be quite adept when it came to the military life. He was used to the meagre portions that focused on nutrition above taste. He could take the strenuous exercise. Firearms were never his preference; he was a reasonable shot, but it was hand to hand combat where he really excelled. He was feared on the wrestling mat and he was gifted in various forms of martial arts. However, it seemed that such talent went unrecognised. One more aspect of military life that Krabs was all too familiar with was the ostracising he received from his supposed brothers-in-arms. Several of them he recognised from school and no doubt recognised him. But he could take their scorn. He was tough. He would fight for his people.

He did find one friend, who he met on the wrestling mat; 'Lockjaw' Jones, a young recruit like himself. Jones had a deformity in his jaw that created a nearly terrifying appearance and had earned him a great deal of abuse throughout his life. The two of them hit it off almost immediately. They were united in the face of the rest of the world.

The similarities to his old friendship were not lost on Krabs. Once again, he found himself with a single friend while everybody was against them. Often, he would accidentally begin comparing Jones with Plankton. They were very different people. Jones was a tough nut but not literally, similar to Krabs himself. In contrast to Plankton, Jones viewed Krabs as an equal and respected him, whereas Krabs had clearly never been much more than a one-man workforce for Plankton, whose thinly-veiled insults and complaints had never been lost on so much as ignored by Krabs, until they had finally grown too frequent and unreasonable.

Over time, as news of skirmishes and battles continued and Krabs and Jones kept training, the crab forced thoughts of Plankton and of home out of his head. He was at war now.

* * *

Several months into Krabs' training, he was standing in line for his evening meal after a long day of wrestling, weights and weapons, eager for the portion of coral that awaited him at the end of the queue.

He slipped on a dropped fork and bumped into the person in front of him.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!"

Krabs was about to mutter an apology when the other man started speaking again.

"Rag Boy?! Is that you?!"

Krabs looked up in surprise. He was met with the unpleasant face of the boy he had frequently suffered at the hands of in school, who he had never learned the name of; he was simply the one with the absurd sideburns.

"You know that guy, Muttonchop?" asked the man in front of the sideburned fish.

"Sure! He was in school with me! He was the guy everybody hated! I can't believe they let you sign up, Rag Boy. What's your rank, Cannon Fodder?"

Muttonchop and his cohorts snorted with laughter. Krabs just scowled.

Jones nudged him from behind.

"We shouldn't have to put up with this."

"We'll show 'em, once we get onto the battlefield," Krabs muttered back.

"You say something, Rag Boy?" snarled Muttonchop.

Krabs shrugged and looked away from the playground bully. Muttonchop shoved him.

"Huh? You said something about how you're gonna show us something! Come on, why don't you show me right now?!"

"Hey, lay off him," said Jones.

"Shut up, Toothy. My business with Rag Boy is my own."

Muttonchop pulled up his sleeves.

"Come on, Rag Boy! Show me what you're made of!"

Muttonchop slung his fist into Krabs' face, bowling him over and causing him to crash into a shelf. Muttonchop's cronies roared with laughter. Krabs stood, wiping his mouth and glaring murderously.

"What's the matter, Rag Boy?! You want some more?!"

Krabs spoke.

"Screw you, you son of a bitch."

Without another word, Krabs drew back a claw and smashed it into Muttonchop's face with as much power as he could muster. It felt good to vent.

Muttonchop stumbled back into his comrades, who caught him with looks of shock, which rapidly turned to anger.

"The hell d'you think you're doing?!" one roared. He leapt forward and Jones smacked him in the jaw, dropping him briefly. The man staggered to his feet just as Muttonchop recovered.

"That's it, you piece of" was all Muttonchop could spit out before Krabs had laid another fist into his mouth, shattering several teeth.

Within seconds, the fight was an all-out brawl. Krabs and Jones, standing alone, were swamped by Muttonchop's numerous accomplices. Their loneliness had proved a fatal weakness, and had it not been for the timely intervention of an officer, they may not have seen the battle to come.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" screamed a major who had approached the brawl. Everybody stopped mobbing Krabs and Jones to look up in shock.

The major strode into the middle of the throng, glaring at everything in sight.

"Seriously?! You're fighting among yourselves at a time like this?! Don't you know how close we are to Shell City forces?! The bastards have just taken Plaice-In-Sea!"

There was a collective gasp. Plaice-In-Sea was a small town just two miles east of their position that controlled all of Bikini Bottom's iron mines. The loss of it was a heavy blow and put the Bikini Bottomites in a dangerous position.

The major continued.

"We're supposed to be meeting up with the 6th Infantry Brigade and heading up their in two days time to take it back! We've promised Brigadier General Fin a supplementary force that could destroy anything Shell City could throw at them! I thought we had one, but you seem determined to prove me wrong! What's the use in individual soldiers?! They're about as useful as fence posts without any links between them! An army is a single, fluctuating, many-armed organism! Brothers in arms form the closest kind of fraternity in the world! An army is nothing without comradeship! That is what our nation was formed from in the first place, isn't it?! That's the creed of Bikini Bottom! We work together for a common good! On the day of the battle, will you be fighting the enemy, or will you be too busy fighting each other?! That would make a nice surprise for Shell City, now, wouldn't it?! They come to fight an army, only to find that it's already destroyed itself for them! I hope you've listened well to my overly-long monologue, because it was very important!"

Muttonchop picked himself up off the ground, grumbling. He and his platoon slouched back in line for their coral.

Krabs and Jones struggled to get themselves up from the dirt. Suddenly, Krabs felt a rough hand seize his claw and hoist him upright.

"You got to stay on your feet, son," growled the major, helping Jones up. "I know they've all been giving you two a hard time, but that's the way it is. You've got to show them what you're made of, but not by fighting them. You've got to prove yourselves and earn their respect on the battlefield. That's where medals come from. You hear me?"

The two privates saluted.

"Yes, sir," they chorused.

The major nodded.

"Good. Go and get yourselves cleaned up, then come and get some grub once them lot have left."

* * *

Krabs lay awake that night in his bunk while Jones snored beneath him. In a couple of days, he would be going into battle. Into the line of fire. The fight today had proven only one thing to him; he couldn't hold his own in a fight, at least not against large numbers. Sure, in the real battle, he would technically have more support on his side; but what if they were willing to sacrifice him?

* * *

The following day, at eleven in the morning, they received a formal briefing from the Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the entire unit based in their camp.

Their role, as recruits, would be primarily to act as support for the main attack from the 6th Infantry Brigade. Their freshly trained artillery battery would fire from the west of the town while a more experienced battery would provide heavier fire from the east. Both batteries would be aiming primarily at the south end of the town. The first two units of the 6th would charge under the cover of the artillery fire from the south. As the enemy rushed to defend from them, a third artillery battery would open fire at the north side of the town and the remaining four units from the 6th would charge from that direction, from the hills, to take the weaker side of the town and attack the enemy's primary defences from the rear. Simultaneously, two units from their own 21st Brigade would be mounting an infantry-only attack on the two mines based outside the town. Krabs' unit along with another were to remain in reserve in case of a need for assistance by the forces from the 6th. The remaining soldiers of the 21st would slowly circle round the town to the east side to watch for and begin defence from any reinforcements, which the entire 7th Brigade would be on hand for should it be necessary.

The attack was planned for four o'clock in the morning, when the Shell City forces would be at their weakest and dreariest. The Bikini Bottom forces were to go to bed immediately after the briefing had concluded. They would be roused at one o'clock, ready for the 1 ½ hour march to Plaice-In-Sea.

The Lieutenant Colonel ended the briefing with a reminder about the need to work together to form a strong army. Krabs frowned at Jones. Given what had happened yesterday, were the chances of that really very high?

* * *

The following day dawned on an army already in position. Having rested well, the Bikini Bottomite forces were ready for the attack. Krabs sat with Jones, rifle in hand, taking the occasional swig of water and saying nothing. The plan seemed solid. It was unlikely that Krabs and his unit would even be needed.

The firing began.

"It's started," commented Jones, raising his head. Krabs said nothing.

They did not move for an hour; the entire unit simply listened tensely to the distant sounds of the battle.

Finally, the Lieutenant Colonel called them to attention. Were they being called to action? Excitement was clear in the ranks.

"Alright, soldiers," began the Lt. Col. "We've had news from up ahead that they've got into trouble. It seems that Shell City somehow predicted our move when we started up with the artillery. They've concentrated almost all of their soldiers on the north side. They have almost all of their artillery there as well. They also dug trenches on the south side, lined with barbed wire and supported by a platoon or two, which has bogged down the rest of the force. They've managed to break our ranks, so our own forces have been scattered. We've managed to enter the town, apparently, but our advantage has been lost, so our job is simply to get in there and back them up from the south side. We're going in and taking improvised bridges in with us, by which I mean big planks of wood. We'll join up with what we've got of the two south units and attack the enemy's primary defences from the rear. We'll shortly be supported by two more units from the 7th. Prepare to move out!"

The unit bustled with excitement as they packed up and prepared to leave. To the fresh recruits, the situation was simple; there had been a disaster, and they were coming to save the day! Only Krabs was not positive. It seemed Plankton had instilled in him his own negative sense of deconstructing situations and seeing them for what they were; in this case, a losing battle.

They marched rapidly the short distance to the point from where they would charge. Krabs was near the front. The major from two days ago was nearby. Jones nudged Krabs.

"You ready for this, buddy?"

Krabs nodded and smirked. Screw Plankton and his depressing sense of pessimism. They were going to win this battle and he, Eugene Krabs, was going to be instrumental in that victory.

The order came to charge. The plan was to come in from a low ridge, their path taking them under the line of their own covering fire. The troops at the back were carrying the 'bridges' slung over their shoulders. The centre forces were to fire at the tops of the buildings, where most of the enemy's defensive soldiers were likely to be. The front lines, Krabs among them, simply fired into the streets in organised volleys, dictated by the major.

They finally reached the lines of their incapacitated troops on the edge of the trenches. The back ranks brought forward the bridges while the rest provided covering fire and the officers discussed the plan. Once the bridges were down, Krabs was one of the first to thunder across them, Jones by his side.

Everything began to wrong at that point.

Some 300 soldiers surged out of the buildings onto the streets of the town, their firing felling many of Krabs' unit in seconds. Krabs and Jones dodged to the side and took cover behind a wall. Sudden machine gun fire from the top of a nearby house rained down on the bridges, slaughtering the soldiers and destroying the fragile planks. The major swung in beside Krabs and Jones, joined by about twenty others.

"Barnacles!" cursed the major. "How can there be this many of them?! There was supposed to be no more than a brigade covering the entire town!"

"They must have brought in more during the night!" suggested a Corporal next to Jones.

"But why?! Surely they can't have learned about our plan from their intelligence?!"

Krabs cursed. The situation reminded him of chess with Plankton. Almost every time they'd played, he'd thought he had the upper hand, right up until Plankton had revealed his winning strategy. It was like his opponent had been able to guess his every move. How was it possible to beat someone capable of that? It was too late to simply reorganise the entire plan.

The major was screaming into his radio.

"Tell one of the artillery batteries to focus on buildings in the centre of the town! Yes, I know we want to, but they're hiding soldiers in them! I don't know how!"

What could they do? Plankton would know. Krabs mentally slapped himself.

_Stop thinking about Plankton_! _He_'_s not even here_!

_But what would he do_?

Krabs' only hope was to think like Plankton. He had to be clever. He was fighting for Bikini Bottom here.

But channelling Plankton was not as easy as Krabs needed it to be. They were very different people.

Krabs crawled over to the major.

"Major! What do we do?!"

"I have no idea, Private! I'm waiting for orders, but our superiors don't seem to know what to do either! They've given control over actions to us!"

Krabs' eyes widened.

"Major! Look out!"

The major had to be preserved. He was their leader and only hope of victory.

Krabs dived in front of the bullet with an apology to his wife and daughter.

* * *

Krabs opened his eyes. He wasn't dead. He wasn't even in pain. He looked down. There was undeniably a bullet hole in his uniform, but below that…

The major was staring at him in shock.

"You should have mentioned that you could deflect bullets earlier, lad!"

Krabs stared at his shell. Had he really deflected a bullet with his shell?! Even his father hadn't been capable of that!

And suddenly the plan was simple.

Krabs ran out from behind the wall and charged the house with the machine gun. Every shot from the enemy simply bounced off. It was an exhilarating feeling. Eugene Krabs was bullet-proof.

With a roar, he crashed through the door of the house and bowled over several of its guards. Unable to fire his rifle fast enough*, he tossed it into the face of a soldier running at him and followed it up with a clenched claw. He darted around the lower floor of the house, picking off every soldier it contained with ease. When a group came at him, he simply hurled a sofa at them. When they fired at close range, the bullets actually bounced off and struck them.

Krabs found that he preferred this mode of combat on account of it being almost non-fatal. The claws of a crab were feared in combat across the Pacific, but there was no way he would use them to spill blood. He was too much of a humanitarian.

Krabs began to work his way upstairs. He was being relied on to take out the big gun.

Mounting the stairs, Krabs shot like a cannonball at the nearest group of soldiers, who fired to no avail. The gun was in sight. He bolted towards it and with a mighty roar, he had taken control of the gun from its firer. He span it round. Bullets sprayed across the room, taking out the rest of the enemy troops. There was only so often you could afford to be non-fatal. He turned and began to focus his fire on the streets held by the enemy. Their forces scattered under the sudden hail of lead on their heads. He could hear the major screaming for the spare bridges to be set across the trench. Bikini Bottomites surged forwards. Two gunners hurried up the steps of the house to where Krabs was.

"We'll take that off your hands, Armour Abs," one of them said. "I think we'll be needing you on the streets."

Krabs nodded and dashed back to the open combat. He met up with Jones quickly.

"How you doin', buddy?" he yelled over the racket with a broad grin.

"Fine and dandy, Armour Abs!" his friend replied. "Nice touch with the bullet proofing!"

"Trust me, I had no idea I could do this until today!" Krabs hollered.

The major appeared alongside them, grinning.

"Nice work, boys!"

The recruits nodded back and Krabs led the other two into another house held by some seven soldiers, taking the bullets while they fired from behind.

The problem was clear. While the battle here on the south of the town was turning tactically in their favour, the overall battle was a very different story. On the south, in the weaker field for both parties, Bikini Bottom was gradually gaining the upper hand, but in the north, where both of the larger forces were, Shell City was undeniably winning, and for now, there was no way to change that. There were supposed to be reinforcements coming from the 7th Brigade, weren't there? Where were they?

"Major! Where are the reinforcements from the 7th?!" yelled Krabs over the noise.

"Apparently they've been ambushed by a small group! It's not a disaster, but the objective seems to be to slow them down before they can help us out, and they're succeeding!"

Krabs cursed. If the reinforcements could just get to them, then the plan that was slowly forming in his mind could be implemented.

Suddenly, there was a roar from behind them. A thunder of feet. A sudden increase in the volume of gunfire.

The major was listening to his radio.

"Good news! They sent in two units from the 7th in the first place, and they're bogged down with that ambush, but they managed to send the other four units in secret and they've just shown up!"

Krabs grinned. Perfect.

"Major! I have a plan!"

"I'm all ears!"

"We need to quickly send the artillery batteries round to the north of the town, in secret! After that, our force up in the north needs to fake a retreat! Once the enemy starts pursuing them, all of the artillery begins pouring the shells down on them! We and our reinforcements down here can surge through the town and attack from behind and our northern lot attack them from the front! The artillery can lay off at the last second and we can finish them off!"

The major grinned.

"I like it!"

He seized the radio.

"Come in, Brigadier General! We've formulated a plan down here! What? Why not? Huh?! How is that possible?! Alright, we'll have to send a runner!"

"What is it?!" asked Krabs anxiously.

"Apparently they've been somehow listening to our radio communications! We have to send a runner to give them the plan! You there! I already know you're fast! Can you remember the plan?!"

The recruit he pointed at nodded.

"Good! Get going, fast as you can!"

The man nodded again and instantly bolted.

Krabs, Jones and the major watched him go.

"Come on, Armour Abs, Lockjaw! We've got a battle to fight while he's gone!"

The three badasses plunged back into the fray, throwing Shell Citizens this way and that.

Bikini Bottom's armies had been famous and feared for their speed and manoeuvrability for centuries. Such qualities did not fail them now.

The runner was back in twenty minutes, panting with exhaustion.

"The orders… have been relayed to the… artillery… we're to organise into a full-on charge, it doesn't matter about individual buildings for now… we're just meant to charge straight through the town… we need to be ready… in ten minutes…"

The major nodded.

"Understood! Good work, soldier! And good plan, Armour Abs," he added to Krabs. "Looks like our superiors liked it."

Krabs grinned.

"Shall we start rounding people up, then?"

The major nodded.

"Organise everybody into a wave formation, ready for the charge!"

The soldiers around begin running off to inform their allies. The major barked orders. Krabs and Jones ran for a dead end street that appeared to have half a platoon of Shell Citizens attacking somebody in it.

When they reached the street, they saw that what had occurred was a lot of bloodshed on both sides. A Shell City platoon and a Bikini Bottom platoon had apparently met and engaged. All that was left on the Bikini Bottom side was five or six soldiers at the end of the street, bravely battling the Shell Citizens but losing dramatically. Krabs recognised Muttonchop among them.

"C'mon! We've gotta help those guys!" yelled Jones. Krabs paused. They had low chances of defeating so many alone. Their soldiers were very few and getting fewer every minute. What was the point in going to save them, especially since they were bastards that had attacked their own comrades?

Krabs shook his head. That wasn't him talking. That was Plankton's style of reasoning. If only to defy the obnoxious microbe, he was going to save what was left of Muttonchop's platoon.

Krabs and Jones charged forwards, Krabs' eyes raking the situation for something that could help them against such odds.

It was presented almost immediately. Before the attack had come, some Shell City soldiers had evidently been cooking breakfast. A pot was boiling over a fire just inside a house. Much of the water had boiled away or spilled over the top, but the fire remained alight and what was left of the water would dangerously scald anyone without a bullet-proof shell.

With that in mind, Krabs ran into the house and emerged seconds later with the pot in his arms, trying not to think of all the times he'd hoisted a hot pot while trying to make burgers.

Krabs bodily flung the pot at the Shell City soldiers. In seconds, most of them were writhing in pain on the ground, clutching burns. Krabs and Jones ran into their midst and finished them off with relative ease.

Krabs turned to face the end of the street. All that was left was Muttonchop, staring at the two of them, dumbfounded.

"Come on!" yelled Krabs. The three soldiers ran back to the high street, where a block of Bikini Bottom soldiers was waiting.

"Come on, Armour Abs! You get to go right at the front!" shouted the major, grinning.

Krabs grimaced and took his place.

"Ready?! CHARGE!"

The Bikini Bottomites surged forwards, yelling patriotic cries, Krabs, Jones, the major and Muttonchop at the forefront. They swept through the town, an unstoppable wave of soldiers, the famous Bikini Bottom 'Tsunami' charge tactic that combined a block of force with light weaponry and high speeds. Any Shell Citizens in their way were simply crushed. Any that didn't were powerless to prevent the rout that was to follow.

The wave emerged from the town to see the enemy halfway up a slope, a strong force but completely exposed, with shells raining down on them.

"Halt! We wait for the signal from the guys up top!"

The force halted and watched.

Suddenly, the hills were alive with a swarm of soldiers pouring down the slope. Hundreds of Bikini Bottomite soldiers raced towards the ranks of the incapacitated Shell Citizens. Krabs had to marvel at the efficiency and speed of the Bikini Bottom artillery batteries, managing to move all of their equipment up in time and start firing at the right moment.

"Time to go! CHARGE!"

Once again, Krabs' force surged upwards, firing wildly at the enemy. Many of them were the fresh recruits from Krabs' 21st Infantry Brigade, so the organisation of the charge left something to be desired, but they had the required effect nonetheless. The artillery ceased firing just as the two Bikini Bottom forces hit the Shell City force in a deadly encircling strike.

Krabs, Jones, the major and Muttonchop fought side by side as all formation broke up and the battle fell into little more than melee.

Some of the Shell City artillery remained intact and a handful of shells were foolishly fired into the midst of the fighting. Krabs spotted one headed straight for his little band. Without a second thought, he dived in front of them, bearing the brunt of the blast with his shell.

"ARGH!"

There was a scream of pain from behind him. He turned, wincing from the damage the shell had inflicted on him. Muttonchop was clutching his leg, which was bleeding profusely. He had evidently been hit by a large piece of shrapnel. Next to Muttonchop lay a Shell City soldier, howling and clutching his face. The man's eye had evidently been torn out. Krabs winced. That was a harsh injury.

"Muttonchop! You won't be able to fight on that leg! Get back to the field hospital!" yelled the major.

Krabs chipped in.

"Take the Shell City soldier next to you, too!"

The others looked at him like he was mad.

"He's just an ordinary man! That's one hell of a nasty injury! It won't make a difference, will it?!"

The major nodded stiffly.

"He's right! An injured man is an injured man, regardless of his uniform! Take him, Muttonchop!"

Muttonchop nodded and slung the groaning man over his back. He limped away from the fighting, ducking to avoid stray bullets. Krabs, Jones and the major turned back to the battle at hand and resumed combat.

The battle was done. Krabs was one of those fighting until the very end, mopping up the stragglers who had failed to retreat. The fight on the hillside had been a total rout for the Shell City force. Those left in the town had been too few to mount any further offensives. It seemed that Shell City's supply of reinforcements had been depleted by sending in so many before the battle, and so none had shown up to try to preserve their hold over the town. The forces attacking the external mines had apparently met with little difficulty compared with those targeting the main town. Though their forces had been severely depleted by the near disaster, Bikini Bottom had won the day and had managed to work out how Shell City was continually predicting their moves. Steps had been taken to prevent such occurrences from occurring again. The original refugees from the town and four units of infantry were put in place to both populate and run the town and garrison it in case of further Shell City offensives.

Many medals were awarded following the battle, but none received more than Eugene Krabs, the prided 'Armour Abs' of Bikini Bottom's infantry. In addition to his medals, he was promoted to the rank of major for his leadership, tactical and combat skills.

Tremendous parties were held across the nation of Bikini Bottom that night, especially in every army camp and even more especially in the army camp of Krabs' division. Krabs was the hero of the party, with the major and Jones joining him being hoisted onto the shoulders of their comrades and carried around the camp.

Once things had finally settled down, at two in the morning two days later, Krabs retired to his new major's barracks. On the way in, he was stopped by an awkward-looking Muttonchop.

"Hey, Krabs. Er… sorry about the way we treated you in school, and here. You were, uh… pretty awesome in that battle. Thanks… for saving me, and stuff…"

Krabs grinned.

"Oh, that's not a problem at all, Muttonchop. Just so long as you keep kissing my feet for the rest of the war."

Muttonchop scowled.

"Oh, also, that Shell City guy you told me to save wants to thank you, too. He says that he's gonna sign up for the Bikini Bottom army once he gets out of hospital."

"Good for him," smirked Krabs.

They stood still for a moment.

"So… yeah." Muttonchop hurried away.

Krabs grinned at his old tormenter's back and ducked inside the building. The relatively luxurious sight of the major's quarters made him smirk even more.

He hurried to his new room, which he had all to himself. He set down a sheet of paper on the desk immediately and began scrawling.

_Honey,_

_You'll probably have heard in the news, but I'm gonna tell you anyway…_

He went on to describe how the battle had gone and how he had contributed.

_You see? What did I tell you? The flame of Bikini Bottom burns brightly. We're going to win this war, and I'll be fine. I'm bullet-proof, what can happen to me? I'll be back as soon as we've driven them all the way back to Shell City with their tails between their legs. Say hi to little Pearl for me. I love you._

_Eugene Krabs_.

* * *

How long… can you fight?

How long… can you hope?

How long… can you believe?

How long… can you cry?

How long… can you live?

The fire… is dying down.

When the Scallops Cry, War Arc

Part Four: Human Wave

Can you believe?

* * *

*I have to kill fast and _bullets too slow_!

So yeah, that was fun. Unfortunately, the next chapter is quite possibly my least favourite of the whole story so far. But you'll keep reading anyway, because you love me and my magnificent story. Right?


End file.
